


Unsteady

by dalakh



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Season/Series 02, revelation fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-03 19:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalakh/pseuds/dalakh
Summary: Nothing in Lucifer's life has been easy, and Chloe's life hasn't been easy since Lucifer came into it. Why would falling in love be any different? What happened to Lucifer after he left that voicemail? When will Chloe finally learn the truth? Post 2x18.





	1. Waiting all night

**Chapter One: Waiting all night**

_“…No more going backwards.”_

Chloe turned her voicemail off with an aggressive jab at the screen. No going backwards, sure, but no going forwards either. She was in limbo, again. Because Lucifer was gone,  _again_.

She turned to the paperwork on her desk and picked up the first file, intent on at least making some headway on the pile that needed filling in. And yet… and yet she really wanted to see if there were any developments in the missing person case she opened yesterday for one Lucifer Morningstar.

_I kiss him. On a beach. He gets **married**. I get poisoned. And he disappears!_

Chloe stabbed the pen on the paper angrily filling in her notes.

It was the ‘disappeared’ part that had her worried, of course. Last time he left (as if there was a ‘last time’ in the relatively short amount of time she’d known the infuriating man) the apartment was set up as such.

White sheets covering every surface.

Lights in his personal bar (the only time she’d seen them so).

Car gone.

Maze unfazed.

This time? This time there were no sheets, his favourite scotch of the week still sat on the bar rather than stored on the shelf, his car was still in the car park underneath Lux.

No sign of a struggle, either.

Maze – well Maze was still unfazed.

She shook her head.  _Work, Chloe_.  _Stop obsessing!_  

The clock ticked over to 6 pm. There was no point continuing the farce of her attempt at paperwork. She’d made a (very) minor dent: five case files, to be exact. Given that there were another seventeen still to be done, it wasn’t very impressive.

She grabbed her coat and keys, a plan for the evening forming in her mind. She’d check in with Trixie at Dan’s, hit the gym, then swing by Lux...  _Just in case_   _there’s something new_ , she told herself.  _Just it’s all some silly trick he’s decided is hilarious._

She felt less restless with a plan, with something to do, some action to take.

The traffic was, predictably, bad - but not awful – on the drive to Dan’s apartment. She called ahead to let him know she was coming by while leaving the office. Normally, she’d not interrupt his nights with their daughter but… well normally her friend wasn’t missing.

_Is he just a friend, now?_   _Did the kiss mean anything to him?_

“Hey Little Monkey,” she said when the Trixie answered the apartment door.

 

“Hey mommy!” Trixie grabbed Chloe’s hand and pulled her in with the weak but determined grip of an excited child. “You want to come join my tea party?"

 

“Uh, probably not tonight sweetie. I don’t wanna take any of your Dad’s tea.”

Dan was sat at the coffee table along with a stuffed bear, a doll and a stuffed lion. She smirked. “Nice glitter, Dan. Goes with the outfit.”

 

He tried not to grimace, only partially succeeding when Trixie looked back up at Chloe with a pout. “I’ll share my tea with you, Chlo.” He gestured to an empty spot, “Be our guest!”

 

“Yeah mommy, please?”

 

“I can’t tonight, Monkey. I have to go help find Lucifer again. I just wanted to come give you a hug, that’s all.”

 

“He’s still hiding?” The girls pout deepened.

 

“He is, sweetie. It’s starting to annoy mommy.”

 

“He’ll turn up, Munchkin, don’t worry.” Said Dan, sharing a look with Chloe. He hadn’t agreed with sharing the status of Lucifer with Trixie yesterday, but Chloe didn’t see how she couldn’t. Odd as it was at first, her daughter and the would-be devil had struck up quite the friendship. Tentative though it was on Lucifer’s part, of course, but he had stopped trying to feed her bacon like a dog on such a regular basis at least.

 

_“What was she supposed to do, lie to her?” Chloe demanded._

_“Yes, Chloe, that’s exactly what you were supposed to do. She’s seven!”_

_“She was asking about Lucifer. Lucifer doesn’t lie – it felt wrong to lie to her about him.”_

_“It wasn’t your call to make, not on your own. Now **our**  daughter is upset and she didn’t have to be.”_

 

Chloe sighed. She could see Dan’s point but she stood by her own, too. Lucifer was well known on the party circuit in LA and his absence would only go without mention on the hundreds of gossip outlets for so long. Trixie was bound to come across something, was her argument.  _Damned internet_.

 

“So what do you say, Trixie Babe? Can I have monkey hug?”

 

Trixie grinned and jumped up, wrapping her legs around Chloe’s waist when she bent to catch her. She literally wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer, unless she started lifting more at the gym, but for now, she savoured the smell of her daughter’s shampoo and the feel of having her so very close. When she held her like this it felt like she could protect her from everything, impossible though it was.

“Better, mommy?”

 

“Much better,” Chloe smiled her first genuine smile of the day and rubbed her nose against Trixie’s, “Eskimo monkey!”

 

She squeezed the girl a bit tighter –  _just a moment more_  – breathed in the smell of orange from her hair one more time –  _one more breath –_  and set her back down on the floor.

 

“Just what I needed, a monkey hug! Thanks, Trixie babe.”

 

“You’re welcome, mommy. Are you  _sure_  you can’t stay for tea?” She spun around for the pink and sparkly (and empty) teapot and held it out like a gift.

 

“I’m sure, sweetie. Your dads very thirsty though, I’m sure he’ll drink some more.”

 

Dan gave her a frustrated look from behind the table. His plastic, princess tiara slipped down his forehead, ruining the effect.

 

“I’ll pick you up from school on Monday, alright? And don’t eat cake every day, missy.”

 

Trixie smiled a little too sweetly. “See you on Monday, mommy.”

 

_That wasn’t an agreement._ Chloe shook her head but let it go. Clearly one of them had been around Lucifer far too long. Or both.

 

Chloe left the pair feeling a little lighter and arrived at her preferred gym feeling prepared for an actual workout – unlike yesterday when she’d arrived, walked on to the main gym floor… and left. The news on the muted TV screens was a local station reporting on the breaking news that local club owned, Lucifer Morningstar, had been reported missing.

 

Logan, one of the PTs, smiled up at her from the desk as she walked in, “Hey.”

 

She nodded and gave a small smile in reply and hitched her gym bag higher. She knew that look and wasn’t interested. He’d been giving her the eye since he started work there, six months ago. Aloof but pleasant, in her experience, was the best play here.

Peak time had passed – it was now well after eight in the evening – so the place wasn’t packed and she had her pick of equipment. After a brief warm-up, she grabbed some free weights and started working on her upper body strength.

_Maybe one day I can through someone through a window_ , she thought, remembering when Lucifer had thrown Joe Hanson through a window. It was ridiculous, of course. She was 99% certain nobody of her size – of his – could be strong enough to through a grown man  _through_  a window. She’d concluded, after much thought, that there’d clearly been a weakness or manufacturing flaw in the window that wasn’t obvious at the time. Perhaps it was thinner, or there’d been some hairline fractures in it not picked up by the CCTV.

_The angle of the camera though…_

Chloe shook her head. Not possible. The alternative was that Lucifer’s delusion wasn’t, in fact, a delusion, and he was, in fact, the devil.

And she’d tried to seduce the devil, not Lucifer (and been rejected). And she’d kissed the devil, not Lucifer (and been rejected. Twice).

The rich club owner had clearly changed his mind after calling her and run away, rather than deal with the situation, that was all.

But why didn’t it sit right?  _What am I missing?_  

Chloe slammed the weights back onto the rack with a bang and ignored the other woman on the nearby mats who frowned at her through a downward dog. “ _Stop obsessing, Chloe_.”

With the evening ticking away, she finished up with a run. Despite some people – Lucifer – being able to eat, drink and smoke whatever he wanted, with zero consequence, Chloe was not as fortunate and liked to keep in shape. Thankfully just her day job and running around after Trixie kept her in pretty good shape, but she did like to ‘top up’ her fitness.

An hour later and Chloe was sat at the VIP bar in Lux. It was still far too early for the club to be open proper, even on a Friday night, but the place was still busy and the queue outside impressive.

To begin with, when she’d just been getting to know Lucifer, she’d felt incredibly self-conscious walking by the line of men and women dressed up in their sexiest outfits (which usually seemed to consist of very little clothing, for many of the women) and straight up to the doormen. Her usual ‘outfits’ (she snorted to herself at the thought) were whatever she’d thrown on for work that morning and so always functional: jeans, a shirt, a jacket, and sensible shoes.  _You never know when you’ll have to run after a suspect, after all._  It helped to dress in a certain way in order to be taken seriously at the precinct as well, despite it being the 21st century.  _God forbid I be a homicide detective and dare to wear dresses occasionally._

That feeling of unworthiness had faded quickly. It still sat in the back of her mind, that doubt, that  _you’re not good enough_  feeling that had her fiddling with the hem of her sleeves and trying to make herself smaller. She may not fall for him the way that every other woman (and man) he came across tended to, but Chloe couldn’t deny that Lucifer’s constant interest in her had helped with that. His confidence was such that it seemed he left a little with her with every compliment, every glance.  _You started to fall for him_  her conscience nudged. “And now he’s gone.” She muttered to herself. “Stupid, Chloe. Stupid.”

But the confidence he’d imparted lingered, and she had no problem striding past the queue of hopeful entrants and smiling at the doormen (Steve and Marcus, tonight) and settling into her preferred seat at the exclusive VIP bar.

The one next to his preferred seat.

She was waiting, again. For the third night in a row, she was waiting. Her preferred seat also had a good line of sight to the entrance steps (of course – a cop was never really off duty).

Now, as she sat and sipped her soda water, it gave her the perfect vantage point to watch the steps intently, hoping that he would arrive (a glass of scotch already in hand, of course).

The minutes ticked by, and the club grew busier. Hotter. More bodies and comings and goings and dancers and people wandering by. And still no sign of the enigmatic owner.

Another hour passed. The piano remained silent, untouched and unlit by the spotlights above.

 

Chloe huffed and set her (second) empty glass on the bar. The temptation to order something else sat on the tip of her tongue. Just one, just to take the edge off of the hopeless anger, the embarrassment of falling for him, the worry over where he’d gone or what had happened.

“Another soda, Detective?”

Chloe looked up at the barman, Ethan, who’d arrived so promptly. Lucifer would be proud. No (possible) desire left untempted, it seemed.   
A mojito really would help. So would tequila. She could practically feel the cool liquid and hot after burn calling to her from the shelf –

“No, thanks, Ethan. I’m gonna call it a night – is Maze around?”

The brunette nodded, his long fringe falling over his eyes in a way that Chloe bet had several of the women in here batting their eyelashes and pressing their arms together as they leant against the bar to give him a better view of (what was usually) ample cleavage. “Over there.” He pointed to a couch where she was sitting with several patrons. Goodness knows what was being discussed – by the looks of their faces, something sexual.

Chloe walked around to the front of the couch and quirked an eyebrow at her roommate.

“Hold that thought.” Maze ordered the nameless men around her.

 

“What’s up, Decker?”

 

“Any news?”

 

“It’s been  _three days_. Of course not. He’s probably still buried in a group of women!”

 

Chloe rolled her eyes and reminded herself that she  _was not jealous_  of the man that had run away after promising they’d move forwards (okay, not go backwards). “ _Thanks_  for that mental picture. The reports on his credit cards and phone came back – he’s not used them.”

 

Maze smirked. “He never carries that card about, you know. I think it’s still in his desk drawer.”

“How does he pay for anything?” Chloe shook her head and held up a hand, “No, I don’t want to know. Favours, I’m sure. He was obsessed with that phone, though.”

 

Maze frowned – well, frowned slightly more. “Yeah, he did. He probably found a new one he likes better.”

 

Chloe thought about Candy.  _Tell me about it_.

 

“So… you’re seriously not worried. Like, at all?”

 

“No, Decker, I’m not.” Maze shook her head. “I’ll tell you when I am. Which will be... never. He’s  _Lucifer_.”

 

As if his name was the explanation! Chloe resisted the urge to roll her eyes for about one millisecond, and then decided she was too tired to resist every urge. She rolled her eyes. How did Maze get so involved in his delusions? Had they grown up together? “Right. Are you coming back tonight?”

 

Maze turned to look at the three men on the couch. “Probably not.”

 

Chloe nodded and left. Another VIP guest list perk: valet parking. She was in her car and driving back within no time, observing the considerably longer queue for the club as she did so. She was one part worried, one part angry and one part exhausted. It was now nearly one in the morning and she’d been up since five.  _Jesus, when did it get so late?_  It seemed like every night since Lucifer had disappeared she found herself trying to find an answer to clues that didn’t exist. A puzzle with no picture. Was it his messed up family again? Was it something to do with the mafia? Some of the things he said had led her to believe at some point he must have been involved in something of the sort, although what the British equivalent was she was unsure. Was he just bored of her already? She’d finally admitted that she was interested and so, mystery solved. He could get to her, and now he’d moved on? Literally, moved on to somewhere new? To some new club and… some new detective to pester?

 

“Would I even be surprised?” she muttered to herself, flipping on the lights in the empty apartment and trying not to focus on how full the silence felt. Tiredness pulled at her limbs like an insistent child and instead of the empty quiet giving her comfort, she longed for Trixie’s chatter and Maze’s coarse attitude.  _Or Lucifer’s endless innuendos._

 

_I should be revelling in this! No Trixie and no case_  –  _when did that last happen?_  She thought, getting ready for bed. Probably before Maze and Lucifer exploded into her life, that’s for sure.

 

The silence that settled over her, which usually felt so relaxing, felt smothering. She fell asleep trying to figure out which city Lucifer would try next, and why he’d left that voicemail.

_“…I'm coming over now to tell you the truth.”_

Hours later – the light was different, paler - Chloe awoke with a jolt. The kind that left your heart pounding and the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck standing on end. She felt uneasy.  _Why?_  The cold sinking feeling of 'Other' lay thick in the air, like when she fell asleep in her old armchair while working the case with the shoes and the dead pig.

A scream stayed trapped in her throat. There was a shadow that shouldn’t be there.

There was someone in her bedroom.

He – it was definitely a he – stood in the dimly lit doorway.

Breathing shallow, hoping he hadn’t realised she was awake, she tried to reach the baseball bat next to the nightstand without it looking unnatural.  _Hey, I’m just sleeping, just having a little sleep stretch, don’t mind me_. Her heart pounded like a stampeding animal in her chest.  _How can he not hear that?_

One solid hit to the groin and an elbow to the head should disable him long enough to get to the small gun locker under the bed.

_Calm, Chloe. Stay calm_.

 

“Chloe.”

 

_God, he knows my name?_

 

“Detective…”

 

She sat bolt upright.  _Wait._

 

“Lucifer?” 


	2. Wide awake

**Chapter Two: Wide awake**

“Fuck!” Chloe shouted, scrambling for the light.

 

“Hello, Detective.”

 

Finally, her hand found the lamp switch and she flicked it on. _Lucifer is in my bedroom, Lucifer is in my bedroom_ _what the Hell_ –

“Oh my God, Lucifer! What happened to you?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“Wha-“, she shook her head, stopping the question and climbed out of the sheets. “Come into the kitchen so I can get a better look.”

 

Oddly, the verbose man stayed quiet, simply leading the way into the kitchen without turning on the light. Chloe turned on the spotlights, flinching at the sudden starkness of the light. Lucifer stood watching her, but not the Lucifer she’d last seen: smartly dressed in a suit that cost more than she made in a month, confidence worn like personal armour. This Lucifer was missing a shirt, and shoes. His dress pants were torn, ripped and filthy. He looked at the floor, instead of her eyes. His chest bore burns, cuts and grazes; two in particular, on his arms, would need seeing to. She grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and gestured to a bar stool. _One question at a time, he could be in shock._

“What happened, Lucifer?”

 

His head shook, but his gaze remained off to the side. “I, I don’t know really. One minute, I was speaking to you – well, your voicemail – and the next, I was somewhere else.”  


  
“Where?”

 

“A desert.”

 

Chloe nodded – that matched the sand in the cuts and on his skin, stuck in his hair and all over his pants. Quickly, she filled a bowl with warm water, added some sharp smelling antiseptic, and grabbed a clean kitchen towel from the drawer.

“Do you know who took you?”

He shook his head, then winced.

 _Head wound?_ She wondered, eyeing the dark curls. “I’m going to start cleaning the cuts, okay Lucifer?” she said softly, then added, “It’ll probably hurt.”

She worked as quickly as she could. Most of the wounds were, thankfully, superficial but she still had to change the water three times and get another towel before she nodded with satisfaction. “I think that’s most of them. We need to get you to a hospital for a few though.”

 

“No hospitals.” He fingered the cut along his forearm. _Defensive wound._

 

“Hey, careful.” Chloe pulled his hand away from where he pressed too hard and caused the bleeding to start again. “You need a hospital, Lucifer.”

 

“I need you,” Chloe’s heart near enough jumped out of her chest at that, but he cleared his throat and continued. “I just need whatever you can do, Detective.”

 

“I’m not a Doctor, Lucifer.”

 

Finally, he looked at her and she saw, somewhere deep in the depths, a hint of the man that went missing three days ago. The barest hint of a smirk graced his face. “Pretend. Or play nurse, I don’t mind.”

 

She smirked back and turned to the first aid kit on the counter. There had to be some kind of dressing bigger than a plaster in here somewhere, right? Although covering him in an entire packet of Hello Kitty plasters was tempting.

She held up both options. “Do you want the pink plasters or the plain white dressing?”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“Right, of course. Plasters.”

 

“ _Detective_.”

 

“I know, I know. Just kidding. Hold still.” _As if he’s moved an inch or even flinched this whole time_. Carefully, desperate not to hurt him, she applied the dressings – one to each forearm. As she worked, she continued her questions in a low, quiet, voice, “How did you get these?”

 

He said nothing for a long moment – so long she’d nearly finished. “Getting out.”

 

“Out? Of the desert?”

 

He nodded sharply. Chloe looked at him closely. His skin was pale, despite the burns, and dark circles underneath his eyes stood out in stark contrast. He looked… vulnerable. Her cocky, never-flustered bigger-than-life partner was replaced with a… human. Just a human. A man like every other. Sometimes even she forgot, buying into his persona, his ‘devil’ act. With some difficulty, she put aside the burning need to know _who, what, how, why_ and every other question.

 

“I’m going to check your head for trauma, okay?”

He didn’t reply, merely sat and watched in mute agreement. His chest rose and fell slowly with small movements. She was no doctor – or nurse – but she couldn’t find anything that felt like an injury. How many times had she daydreamed (and dreamed) about running her hands through his hair? _Not now, Decker_.

“Any headaches, loss of consciousness?”

 

“Only when they knocked me out. A remarkable headache after that.”

  


“What? Where?”

 

“It was a… back when they got me. _How_ they got me, actually. It’s healed, don’t worry Detective. Mortal weapons don’t usually even last that long.”

 

 _Here we go with the mortal thing again_. She smiled. “Right, because you’re immortal.”

 

He looked her in the eyes with such an intensity that for a moment, there was nothing else but he, and her and that second. And then she blinked, and the moment was over and he said: “Precisely.”

 

“Well, does your immortal highness need sleep? Or food?”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course, I do.”

 

“Will a sandwich do? I was going to grab groceries tomorrow so there’s not much in.”

 

He perked up at that. “Peanut butter and jam?”

 

She smiled. “ _Jelly,_ weirdo, and yeah, I think I can stretch to that.”

 

They sat, a few minutes later, tucking into several rounds of sandwiches made from the last bread in the house. She’d even raided the emergency freezer bread (for toast) to make enough to sate his hunger. It had taken two peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches, one peanut butter and grape jelly and he was finishing off the second peanut butter and honey (which she didn’t get at all but the look on his face as he took a bite meant the flavour was forever etched into her brain). Chloe went for a couple of regular PBJ sandwiches and a cup of tea, whilst he also downed well over a litre of water. Guilt nagged at her stomach, ruining her appetite. She left the last of her sandwich uneaten. _He just said he was in a desert **for three days** and you didn’t think to offer him water straight away? Nice one, Chloe._

Finally, he slowed and made a contented noise. A grin snuck its way onto her face at the scene in her kitchen if a stranger walked in. He, bare-chested and barefoot and with sand in his hair with honey on his lips and she, an absolute sleep-mussed mess.

“Better?” she asked as he smiled back.

 

“Much.”

 

She pointed to his lips. “You uh, missed some.”

 

Slowly, he licked his lips, clearly savouring the honey and Chloe found herself wondering what it would be like to lick honey off of him. She put that thought away quickly.

 

“All gone?” he asked, with the first proper hint of his usual trademark arrogance, like he read her mind right from behind her eyes and was sharing the same thought. Imagining also, what it would be like. And smirking in agreement.

 

“Yup.” She stood quickly and put the plates in the sink. She pulled him up to his feet and led the way to her bedroom. “Come on: you need sleep. I need sleep. Bedtime.”

 

“Detective?”

 

“Yes, Lucifer?”

 

“You’re taking me to your bedroom.”

 

“Yes, Lucifer.”

 

“ _You_ , are taking _me_ to your _bedroom._ ”

 

She reached back into the main room to turn off the lights, then closed the door behind them.

“To sleep, Lucifer. No… antics.” She stalled his next quip ( _and don’t they seem to be picked up in frequency now? Fuelled by sandwiches?_ ) with a glare that she didn’t quite feel. She was still just stunned he was back. She pointed to the bed. “Lay down.”

 

“Yes, ma’am. You know, I didn’t know you were into this kind of thing. Mind if I shuck these? Sand’s not a good bedfellow.” He gestured to his pants.

 

“Sure.”  She waited for another joke, another innuendo or straight up sex joke, but it didn’t come. Instead, he just quickly rid himself of the sand-ruined pants (still taking the time to fold them up and set them aside) and lay down on the bed.

 

Chloe turned out the light and took the opposite side, careful to keep a good six inches between their bodies.

 

For now, she would simply bask in delight that he was _back_ and _here_. Injured, but very much _alive_. Subdued, but understandably so. There would be time for answers tomorrow – and hadn’t her questions just multiplied by a thousand? But, for now, he was _safe_ (and _not married… this time)._

 

“’night, Lucifer. I’m glad you’re back.”

 

She was nearly asleep when he replied, so softly she almost missed it.

 

“Good night, Detective.”

 

And just like that, his voice, as always, bought her fully alert; banishing the slow creep of soft sleep that had just started to finally pull her under. Something nagged at her, from that brief moment she was Inbetween Awake and Asleep. It buried its way into her brain. It was right there, right at the edge of her thoughts, the tip of her tongue, peeping out of her mental blind spot.

She lay there, silent and still, thinking for so long on _what_ _was she missing_ that surely, she would fall asleep. But the niggle grew and grew, overcoming her tiredness and the lure of sleep. Beside her, Lucifer shifted and relaxed, his weight settling almost imperceptibly further into the mattress. _I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep, then._ But he slept now, his breaths sounding like little huffs. _The softest big bad ‘devil’ ever created_ , she thought idly and resisted the urge to open her eyes and sit up in the bed. To gaze upon him and take in his appearance when all the funny comments and smart suits and daytime bravado was stripped away by something so human as the need to sleep.

 _Not now_ , Chloe thought, tensing her body and pinching her eyes tighter shut. When the urge didn’t fade completely, she held her breath. There was something so incredibly invasive in watching somebody, who was clearly vulnerable, sleep – doing so uninvited felt like she would be crossing… breaking something unwritten between them. Crossing a line that wasn’t within touching difference, but was so close she was sure it was just around the corner. They weren’t there. _Yet_ , added a small, quiet part of her. Hope.

Chloe lay there, holding her breath and pinching her eyes shut, for as long as she could bear it. Until the urge to watch Lucifer sleep faded.

It faded, finally, abruptly, as the basal instinct to breathe made itself unavoidable known.

She breathed in.

 

And she remembered.

 

Lucifer’s scars were gone.


	3. Getting surreal

** Chapter Three: Getting surreal **

Dawn broke slowly. Chloe watched its fingers inch their way through the slats of the window blinds and over the sheets with the detached fascination of the sleep deprived.

The scars on his back, the ones she’d barely, for the briefest of moments, touched and he’d given her that  _look_ , all pain and hurt and  _fear_ , they weren’t there when he sat in her kitchen last night, after suddenly returning back into her life after being missing for three days.

At a little before six her phone alarm started to vibrate from the bedside table.  _Why do I never turn that thing off!_  She fumbled for it, swiping the thing silent. Aggravated and tired, she swung her feet off the bed and onto the floor.  _Every damn weekend!_  She didn’t look directly at him, but she knew Lucifer was still asleep. He  _felt_ asleep to her: although that might have just been the silence. Carefully, she padded around the bed and grabbed a pair of lounge socks from the dresser on the way to the door. She pulled them up to her knees and stole into the kitchen, thinking to close the door behind her.  _He needs his sleep._

Because, at some point during the hours she lay awake, thinking constantly, she’d decided he wasn’t lying: he really had been in a desert.   
 _He promised he’d never lie to me…_   _That and the supporting evidence: sand, burns, thirst, hunger._

Her traitorous brain betrayed her as she gently pulled the door shut and she caught a glimpse of him asleep. Just a glimpse. His hair, which wasn’t quite as black as she’d thought, back when they first met, the hair which was usually so carefully styled to look  _just so_ ; now alternately stuck up at odd angles and lay flat against his head from his various turns throughout the night.  
Dark lashes, long enough to make most women envious, rested against slightly pale skin. A thick layer of stubble covered the lower portion of his face; far past his usual, carefully groomed, growth. His chest, still mottled by burns and grazes, rose and fell with small, comforting movements and she was  _so not staring_ at the bare skin on show. The sheets tangled over his stomach and around his long legs.  
His feet dangled off the end of her bed and his arm had already been flung to the spot where she had only just vacated.  _A stretcher_ , she noted.  _A stretcher and a sheet thief._ Sand clung to the pillows.

Hastily – for all it took only a moment to see everything she did – she turned back to the kitchen.  _Note to self: change the sheets_.  _For possibly the worst reason ever._ Heat rose in her cheeks at the thought she refused to finish about sand in her bed and the uncomfortable places it could end up and other reasons one changed bed sheets.

Maze’s door remained ajar – she wasn’t back yet. Chloe looked down at her phone and considered texting the other woman (she certainly wouldn’t appreciate a phone call at this hour) to let her know that Lucifer was back. She hovered her fingers over the screen for a moment, but then put the phone down on the counter, message unwritten.

It was too early, she reasoned, and Maze had been completely unworried. She’d wait ‘til Lucifer woke up, or Maze came home (whichever came sooner).

Part of her wanted to go for a short jog, to take in the morning stillness before the city too awoke proper. She even considered the route she’d take. A clear morning, up at a (slightly in)decent hour, no Trixie, no case – how often did these days come along? She could be selfish for an hour, surely. Just an hour – only forty minutes really, because the rest she’d simply be getting changed and showered.  _And when Lucifer wakes – you know he will – when you’re out?_  He deserved a better friend than that.

So, instead, she tidied. She cleaned. She puttered. She whiled away an hour and put on some coffee. She turned on the television and switched to a random comedy channel running the old Friends series yet again. She found a box of pancake mix in a cupboard and fudged together enough ingredients for breakfast when Lucifer woke up.

“ _Maze.”_  She ground out, holding up an empty bottle of maple syrup.  _Who puts away an empty bottle of anything? That’s just stupid!_

Honey pancakes was a thing, right? Well, it was now.  _Like peanut butter and honey sandwiches_.

“What’s got you smiling so early, Detective?”

Chloe jumped, nearly dropping the bottle.  _Nice observation skills, Chlo._ “Lucifer!”

The man in question leant against the counter, completely at ease with his state of undress. But, since he was also 100% happy being naked that wasn’t all that surprising. His hair really was a sight though, and she found herself smiling more. “Maze used up all the syrup.”

“And that makes you… happy?”

“Well, no,” she said, dropping the empty bottle in the recycling, “I was thinking about peanut butter and honey sandwiches. And your hair.”

He smirked his old, sexy, smirk that had so many women falling at his feet. “Food fetish, Detective?”

Chloe poured him a large glass of water and rolled her eyes, not rising to the bait. “Want some pancakes?”

He drank the entire glass of water, smacked his lips, and nodded. “Not a Scotch, but it’ll do.”

“It’s too early for Scotch, Lucifer.”

“It’s twelve o’clocksomewhere, that’s what I say.”

“Of course you do.”

He cocked his head at her, the edges of his lips turned upward.  _Cute_. The thought came unbidden, and she squashed it.  _Not now, Chloe._  “You uh, wanna take a shower?”

The slight smile blew into a grin so wide she thought his face might split at the size of it.  _Seriously, that man is obsessed!_  “I thought you’d  _never_  ask. Come along, Detective.” He held out his hand, looking down at her with that expression that was one-third mischievous, one-third expectant and one-third promise.

_ He’s obsessed!  _ She hit him (gently) with a wooden spoon, giving some leeway to his injuries. “Shower, Lucifer.  _Alone_. Pancakes when you’re done.”

He huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “If I must, darling.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You must.”

“Oi, cheeky. Desert smell, this – you can’t even buy it! Very hard to come by.”

“Go! There’re towels in there already, and we can redress your arms when you’re dry.”

He turned and retreated to the bathroom, giving Chloe another chance to look at his back. Nope, no scars. Had she imagined them? Like the flash she saw in his eyes?  _Right before I shot him. Because he asked me to?_   _Idiot_. But she  _knew_ the scars were real – definitely not imagined. That man was a (frustrating) enigma wrapped in a motor-mouthed riddle!

Thankfully for Lucifer, she was willing to set that aside (for now). Sort of. She would resist the rather strong urge to question him like a suspect and continue with trying to discern what had happened to him instead. Besides, she was still clinging to his promise, the one that felt so long ago. Before she learnt about omission and half-truths: when ‘truth’ had been simple. Sure, he hadn’t said the words ‘I promise’ but the intent had seemed so clear back then, in the car in the darkness of the night, he might as well have done.

_ “I have never lied to you. And I will never lie to you.” _

_ And then he left you and stole your car _   _and got that guy killed._ “You are  _such_  an idiot, Chloe.” She muttered, blindly setting a set of Dan’s old clothes in the steamy bathroom with her eyes shut. She’d found the clothes in an old suitcase a few weeks ago, some remnant of a holiday they took when Trixie was still just a toddler, before the Paul Meadows case and before everything fell apart.

Quickly, before he could realise she was there, she dashed out again and resumed making the pancakes, setting the table and generally keeping her hands busy.

A little while later, the door to the bathroom clicked shut. Footsteps tracked to just behind her.   
“There: all squeaky clean now, Detective.”

Chloe swore she could  _hear_  his suggestive gesture to his body– a specific part of his body she was certain. She  _really_  wanted to smirk, couldn’t resist the urge, even as she flipped the last of the pancakes to finish cooking.

“I need to redress your arms.”

He sighed like she was asking some great favour by trying to care for his wounds. “Very well.” He stepped forward and, as he was prone to do, stood just a few inches closer than she’d find comfortable from anyone else.

Chloe worked quickly, inspecting the cuts and swabbing them with antiseptic cream before gently pressing the new dressings into place. Thankfully she hadn’t been too sleep-addled last night: yes, they were reasonably deep, but probably not deep enough to require stitches.

“There, all done.” She skirted an arm around his side, picking up the two plates on the counter and portioning out two stacks. “Pancakes are ready – grab a seat.”

“How domestic.” He said as she handed him a plate of pancakes and led the way to the table.

“I haven’t got any maple syrup so… We have honey, or Nutella, or jam, or peanut butter.” At his raised eyebrow – it  _was_  a lot of condiments – she shrugged a shoulder, “I didn’t know what you liked so…”

“You know neither do I? I’ve never had pancakes before! I mean… syrups and sweet condiments I know, yes. But on people, not pancakes.”

“I – You –“ Chloe felt the blood rush to her cheeks at the thought of him licking maple syrup off of  _her_  and suddenly words became a challenge. His growing grin didn’t help matters; she really wanted to wipe that look off his face. He knew exactly what he was doing with that comment.  _Grow up, Chloe!_  “Well then, I guess you should to try them with the good stuff. Wait a sec.”

She strode quickly to the cupboard and pulled out an unused Reddi-wip: Maze liked to always have some in  _just in case_. She really didn’t need to think about what ‘case’ that was for. Or Lucifer and whipped cream.  _What are you, sixteen?_

She plopped it onto the table. “Since it’s a special occasion, you should do it properly.”

The face-splitting grin was back – if she looked, she could have counted nearly every one of his teeth. “And what do you have this for? You really  _do_  have a food fetish!”

“It’s Maze’s.”

“Now now, you don’t need to lie to me, Detective.”

“I’m not lying, Lucifer. C’mon, they’re getting cold.” Chloe led by example and chose some Nutella for her own pancakes. For someone so obsessed with everything sex-related he acted a lot like a child, so she wasn’t surprised when Lucifer followed suit and then placed a bit of every single condiment onto his plate.

The Nutella was a bit thick so Chloe decided to just stick a large spoonful of it on her plate and spread it onto each pancake bite as she went. For a little while, they ate in companionable silence… well, near silence. Lucifer kept making little noises of delight as he tried each of the condiments in turn, with varying levels of enthusiasm.

It seemed to Chloe that whatever made him so quiet, so unlike himself last night, had been banished by the daylight.  _Or maybe he was just exhausted,_ reasoned the more logical, less fanciful part of her brain.

But there was one other thing that ate away at her during the long hours of confusion before she awoke this morning. One thing that she couldn’t abide not asking, otherwise the questions she kept locked inside might  _all_  come bursting out all at once and he might run away for good. One question she felt (possibly, it was near impossible to tell with him) he wouldn’t shy away from answering.

“How did you get here?”

He finished his mouthful of pancakes and whipped cream – his second try of that particular topping. “You know, I think the whipped cream is good, but better on people. This Nutella one is better on pancakes, though.”

“I like it too. There’s a place near the beach that does amazing Nutella crepes – you’d love it.”  _Deflected._ Chloe sighed – whilst she was quite adept at seeing it now, when he didn’t want to lie, he would sidestep instead, she still fell for it. Frequently. “How did you get here, Lucifer? Last night?”

“Well, I walked Detective, of course. How else?”

“Walked from where, the desert?”

“That’d be a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” He dipped a pancake in Nutella, then covered it in whipped cream.

_ That’s two. Back off, Chloe. _  “We need to tell Maze you’re back.”

“Yes, we do. Where is that little demon?”

“She uh, was picking out her evening entertainment when I left Lux.”  _Such odd pet names._

“I bet she was. Can I borrow your phone?”

“Hmm,” she nodded, her mouth currently occupied with chewing. “On the side, over there.” She gestured with her fork to where she’d left it.

Lucifer rose and walked over in just a few steps, his legs were that long. He typed an apparently brief message and then soon returned to eating in another comfortable silence.

*

“So, Detective,” he said, his voice low, “What should we do now?”

The plates stood in the rack, washed. Chloe dried her hands on a towel and tried not to obsess about how close he was behind her – she could feel his breath on her bare neck.  _He never stops_ , she thought.

She turned around, “I need to get dressed, and… and we need to close your case – you’re missing, officially.”

“That sounds terribly dull. I have a much more fun idea.” His eyes flicked down, then rose slowly up and over the full length of her body.

Chloe was suddenly reminded, by the heat of his gaze and the blush setting fire to her cheeks, that she stood there in a cami, shorts,  _and socks._ She cleared her throat awkwardly with a half laugh. Maybe,  _maybe_  after the kiss and the beach and the dinner and before the poison and  _Candy Morningstar_  and the voicemail and the endless worry and dark, growing dread of the past three days…. Maybe back then. But what’s done can’t be undone. She was too tired for this. Abruptly, she was  _angry_.

“No, Lucifer.” She snapped. There, she saw confusion in his eyes for the briefest of seconds – not at the rejection, she rebuked his advances often enough for it to usually just be a game – but at her sudden tone. “I’ll be ready in twenty.”

“Well, don’t rush your shower on my account darling, I know you like a long one.” The confusion was gone, the bravado and meaningless words back. Chloe stared at him for a moment too long, berating herself. _You did that. Happy?_  But she was still too angry and walked straight to the bathroom without more than a “Whatever” tossed over her shoulder.

After a scalding hot shower, one that left her skin pink, Chloe felt better. She was tired, she knew it. She got snappy when she was tired and what she  _needed_  last night was a full, long, sleep but instead, she’d spent most of it awake, cleaning her best friend’s wounds and lying in bed beside him thinking on an impossible question. Tired was yesterday – she was plain exhausted now. And to top it off, more questions had joined the growing list.  _Why didn’t he go home?_

And, unbidden:  _why am I so glad he came here instead?_

She dressed and dried her hair, ignoring that little question, and reminded herself onceagain that if anything, Lucifer was the victim here - of an actual crime. A felony, in fact. His hedonistic tendencies and constant smart mouth comments often overshadowed all the other facets of his personality and made it difficult to imagine him as a victim. But, in that instance, that’s exactly what he was. His arrival last night; his demeanour; his silence, demonstrated that.  _So: dial down the Bitch, Chlo_.

“Are you nearly done? Surely there’s not that much involved in your daily rituals… After the shower of course. It doesn’t look like it.”

She spun around with a jump, smearing lipstick across her cheek. “Knock much?”

“I’m so  _bored_ already _._ I swear the desert had more to do.”

“Really? Like what?” She wiped her cheek and finished up.

“Well,” He ran a hand through his hair, “Walking, fending off would-be attackers, getting a tan -”

“Attackers? Animals or people?”

“Animals,” he said mildly, “Where’re we going then? Hopefully to my place, yes? I look uncomfortably like the Douche. I don’t like it. And why  _do_  you have his clothes? Are you back together?”

“Yes, we can. And I found them in an old suitcase. How would I have gotten back with Dan while you were gone?  _Why_  would I? Anyway.” She gave him a confused look and gathered her things on their way out. “Then we need to go to the station. What did Maze say?”

“She’s fine. I’ll catch up with her later.” He brushed off the question while she locked the front door, “I’m, glad, I didn’t somehow miss you two getting back together. How long was I gone, then?”

“You don’t know?” Chloe stilled mid-step and raised an eyebrow at him. Granted it wasn’t an  _entirely_  unusual question, but it was a little odd.

“Not really. Time got a bit… funny. Out there. Not long, I sense?”

“Three days, Lucifer.” She buckled up her seat belt, waited for him to do the same. “You were gone three days.” She was driving, so only half concentrating on him, but when he didn’t reply straight away she glanced over. “You okay?”

“Yes, Detective.” He gave her a small, tight smile. A false smile.  _I hate that smile._  “It just felt like much longer, I suppose.”

*

“Yes, as you can see Olivia I’m absolutely fine, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Family emergencies, and all that.”

Chloe shook her head in disbelief. That man could charm the habit off of a nun… probably had, actually. He’d concocted a simple story, one that he said was true enough from his point of view because he didn’t want to turn the last three days into a massive investigation.

_ She shook her head in disbelief. “You don’t want to catch the sickos that did this? What if they come after you again?” _

__

_ “They won’t.” he said, “And as for punishment… I can be very patient, Detective. When I need to be.” _

And that was that. He’d refused to elaborate further and insisted they close his missing person case completely. The story was simple and believable: shortly after hanging up, his brother arrived and told him about a family emergency that was desperate enough for him to leave straight away and get caught up in for a few days. As soon as he was able, he’d returned and found out about the fuss. Arrived at his good friend Detective Decker’s house to start sorting things out. He was  _terribly_  sorry for the confusion. And could you  _believe_  he’d lost his phone as well? Talk about bad timing.

He perched on the end of her desk with a cheeky grin to her and a wink to the departing Lieutenant. “There, all cleared up. In fact, it’s like I was never gone.”

“Just like that?” She stood up and leaned next to him, continuing quietly, “I thought you didn’t lie?”

“Like I said, it all depends on your point of view.” He gave her that half smile, all teeth and slightly hard at the edges, “I don’t lie – I still have my pride, Detective.”

“Right…”

“So? Do we have any cases? Anybody to punish?”

“Not right now, no.”

“Oh. Well. Off to Maze’s then! Give me a ride, Detective?”

She quirked an eyebrow and forestalled the incoming suggestive comment. “I’ll  _take you_  to wherever you need. Don’t you want to get your car?”

“Not yet, no. It’s been  _three days_ , Detective. I need you to fill me in on all the juicy details! What did I miss?”

“In three days? Not much, Lucifer.” Chloe grabbed her badge and phone and gestured to the stairs. Since apparently, they were leaving. “Seriously, you want me to pay chauffer? You hate my driving.”

“ _Yes_ , but I missed you. So! Putting up with your driving for a bit seems tenable.”

“You missed me?”

“Of course, Detective. And Maze too, oddly. And Linda. Even your  _spawn_.”

“But… in three days? You’re willing to put up with my driving, which you  _hate_ , after three days.” She squinted at him.  _Nope – same Lucifer._

“What can I say, Detective? It felt much longer to me.”


	4. Fight Like the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've (only) just realised I've not been adding notes! Sorry! Hullo, and thank you for all the kudos and reviews.  
> They feed me. Well, that and cookies.  
> This little plot bunny keeps going - and now that Season Three is on (wahoo!) I'll try and tie in a few bits where it suits the story. I think our new Lieutenant will have to feature somewhere, the interplay in the first episode was too fantastic to leave out.  
> The title for this chapter is **Fight Like the Devil** \- as in the song by Paul Otten, from the soundtrack for the show :)

**Chapter Four: Fight Like the Devil**

 “Mazikeen!” He shouted, all smile and teeth, running down the steps of Lux. “I’m back!”

 

Chloe followed at a slower pace, hanging back to the shadows.  _Why am I here, again?_   _I’m a cop, not a chauffeur. And it’s my day off!_  But he missed her and she was a sap so here she was because  _damn if I didn’t miss him too_.

 

Maze rose, smooth as a snake, from where she lounged against the bar nursing a glass. She poured him a generous serving and handed it over. “I can see that. Where were you?”

 

“The desert, can you believe? Felt a bit like Limbo really. Wasn’t.” Lucifer accepted the glass gratefully, his eyebrows raised as he fixed the other woman with a knowing look.

 

 _Am I missing something?_  Chloe wondered, finally joining them at the bar and resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn’t like they didn’t do this a lot: having two conversations at once. She’d gotten amazingly used to it since she and Maze started sharing a flat.

 

“ _Why?”_

 

“It wasn’t my choice, Maze. I was devil-napped!”

 

Maze stood quickly, eyes darkening and posture tense.  _Angry_. “What! By who?”

 

“No idea, I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough with the Detective here on the case.” he shrugged, “Where did you think I’d gone?” he asked curiously.

 

Maze angrily slammed back a shot of something clear and braced her hands against the bar, leaning forwards as she looked at Lucifer. “Vegas! New York! Bangkok! It didn’t feel like you were in danger!”

Chloe raised her eyebrows from her, apparently forgotten, seat.  _That’s a kinda odd phrase_. For someone who’d been remarkably calm for the last three days, Maze was now the picture of outrage and the perfect contrast to the composed man she faced. 

 

“Really? Interesting.” Lucifer drained his first drink and pulled the bottle over for another.

 

“ _Disturbing._ ” Maze corrected, practically growling the word. The hairs at the nape of Chloe’s neck stood on end and she looked around for an AC unit.

 

 “Down, Maze. I’m back now!  _Safe and_   _whole_ , back to my former glory, see?” Lucifer gave her another look, the subliminal conversation apparently continuing. “Have another drink, Maze, won’t you? It’s been ages. Feels like years, to me.”

 

“Really.” Maze sat, poured herself another and gestured to Chloe. Chloe shook her head. Their tolerance for alcohol this early in the day was astounding, and just a little bit worrying. She’d mentioned it in passing concern to Lucifer months ago and he’d just laughed her off with something about a devil’s metabolism.

 

“Yes, I know it was only three days but it really felt like much longer.” Lucifer said mildly, “And the sand! Got everywhere. Couldn’t reach half the places to get it out, dreadfully annoying. Itchy, even.”

 

Chloe shook her head. What was he talking about? Yeah, sand turned up in weird places but what was that supposed to mean, not being able to reach it? What? Her movement must have caught Maze’s eye because the other woman cocked her head, a glint in her eyes.

 

“Do you remember the message you left for her?”

 

 _Her,_ Chloe rolled her eyes.  _As if I’m the cat's mother_.

 

“Message? Ah, yes, the voicemail! Well, not the  _exact_ words but the sentiment, yes. How do you know about that? Late night girlie chats? Naked, I hope.” He turned his head slightly and waggled his eyebrows at her.

 

If Chloe had a drink, she’d have choked on it. She wasn’t even all that surprised at the comment or the leer that accompanied it, but she was surprised to suddenly be the subject of their conversation.

 

“I don’t either, but Decker’s listened to it at least four times a day since you left it.” She smirked tauntingly at Chloe.  “I can’t believe she hasn’t asked you about it yet… or has she?”

 

“Really? Four times a day?” Lucifer sounded like the cat that got the cream. Chloe’s face flushed bright red, her cheeks hot. He’d never let  _that_  one go.

 

“It was evidence in your case.” She reasoned.

 

“A  _missing person_  case, Detective. Not a homicide.” He waggled a finger at her. “So why were  _you_  listening to it?”

Chloe sighed and fixed an annoyed stare at Maze. The other woman shrugged, and when Chloe didn’t answer, Lucifer pressed again.

“Well?”

 

“You know why, Lucifer.” She flicked her gaze from him to Maze and back again.  _So not getting into **that**  now._ Maze would have a field day, she just knew it. Her feelings for Lucifer were… well, complicated, weren’t they?  They’d never actually discussed any of it, not really: the drunk booty call attempt, the kiss, the date that wasn’t, and the date that was, the poisoning… and what wasn’t complicated about being a single-mom cop falling for a renowned club-owner,  _anyway?_ Never mind one who could sleep with 92 people in an  _eight-week_  time period?

 

While Chloe mentally ran herself in circles staring him down, Lucifer just stared back, his eyes boring into hers. Once again it felt to Chloe like it was just the two of them and for the briefest of moments, time slowed. And then he spoke, and Chloe was cursing herself for somehow breaking the spell, until: “Yes, well, we’ll get to that.”

She nearly had to pick her bottom jaw off the floor. “Really?”

 

“Of course, Detective. I never go back on my word. But… this whole  _thing_ ,” he gesticulated with his fingers at the air but kept looking at her. “Has complicated things a bit.”

 

“How?”

 

“I, well, it just  _has_.” He finally broke eye contact and turned his head to Maze. “I wanted to come fill you in, Maze, as to my absence. See your face, your friendly demeanour and so on.”

 

“We’re gonna need a longer chat, Lucifer.”

 

“I know, but, well, not now, ey? Later.” He drained his glass and stood up. “It’s my first day back! Lots to catch up on, right Detective?”

 

“Well, actually,” Chloe shrugged, “you haven’t missed too much. I haven’t got any active cases right now, and it’s my day off.”

 

Lucifer faltered, an odd look passing briefly over his face that she couldn’t identify before he cocked his head to the side and looked down at her properly. The grin that followed was surely nothing good and she tried not to groan.

 

“Decker’s Day Off! Wonderful! Let’s go!” He hooked one of his long arms through her own. “Maze, I’ll talk to you later.”

 

She glared in response and called out an annoyed “You better” as they walked up the steps.

 

“Where are we  _going?_ ” Chloe said  _and she did so not just yelp! Of all things! Woman get a hold of yourself!_

 

“You’ll see! I’ve been dying to do this for  _ages_.”

 

His grin was so genuine she couldn’t help but grin back. Words escaped Chloe for a moment as she was pulled up the stairs – he really was quite strong – because whilst impulsive behaviour was sort of his Thing it wasn’t really  _hers_  and she really wasn’t sure what to make of this, or what to do. She was just counting her lucky stars that he was leading them out of the club instead of to his private penthouse elevator. So not anywhere near the vicinity of  _There_  yet.

 

As they emerged into the bright LA daylight Chloe remembered that her arm was still looped through Lucifer’s and pulled it, not unkindly, out. “Lucifer, seriously! Where’re we going? Why are we going?”

 

“First? First we’re going to the  _beach_  because it’s your day off and I want to have some  _fun!_  And I don’t think you’ll go for my first idea of fun, Detective.”

 

Chloe raised her eyebrow, and he winked.  _Of course, he’s talking about sex – we nearly went five minutes without a reference_. Still… a day of non-sex fun couldn’t be too bad, right? “Alright – beach it is. I’ve only got this though.” She gestured down to her jeans and plain t-shirt.

 

“Skinny dipping, then!”

 

“Lucifer!”

 

“Fine, fine… paddling?” he asked hopefully.

 

Chloe rolled her eyes and nodded. “Paddling. Fine. Let’s go.”

 

And so, they did. Lucifer insisted they have their own version of  _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ , but obviously with his own twist of constant innuendos and alcohol. To begin with, Chloe resisted. It was 11 am after all –and he’d already had two glasses of scotch in Lux, but his enthusiasm was infectious.   
First, they went to the beach, took their shoes off, rolled up their pants (she with some difficulty – skinny jeans didn’t roll easily) and splashed their way along the shore. Then: the fair. They went on every ride, twice, and shared rainbow candy floss (because hey, he might have some supernatural metabolism but  _she_  sure didn’t). After that: lunch at an upscale rooftop bar overlooking the beach, complete with wine during and dessert after (which she did  _not_  share. Chloe  _never_  shared lemon tart, thank you).   
They went to LACMA, the botanical gardens and finally – when Chloe thought her feet might fall off – finished at by a well-known chocolatier in the west of the city where Lucifer proceeded to make the sale clerks month with his purchases, including plenty for Dr Martin, Maze, and all of his employees. He even insisted that “the offspring” got a treat for when she returned from Dan’s care.

Chloe let her head fall against the headrest of the passenger seat with a sigh. Lucifer had taken to refusing to let her drive after they arrived at the beach. The entire way he’d compared her driving to every slow-moving creature he could think of, usually with derisive comments about age thrown in, insisting they didn’t have time to drive at her pace to get everything done that he wanted to. He was probably right, but that was because he drove like a bat out of hell. Hours of  _fun_  later though, she wasn’t complaining - given that she felt she might drop off to sleep at any moment. Maybe she’d just rest her eyes for a moment…

 

...Chloe opened her eyes to find Lucifer staring into her own, his hand brushing a stray hair from her forehead. She blinked rapidly and he quickly pulled away.

 

“We’re back, Detective.” He said, his voice low and soft.  _Like that day on the beach._

 

She peered out the door into the growing Twilight and saw that they were back at her place, “I slept the whole way back?”  _I only closed my eyes for a moment_!

 

“Snored too. I’ll say it again:  _Albanian field wench –_  I’m telling you!”

 

Chloe rolled her eyes, really wanting to stick out her tongue. The day of well, fun, had left her feeling silly. “I did not and I do not!”

 

“Do too.”

 

“Do not.”

 

“Do too.”

 

“Do not – ugh!” Chloe stabbed at her seatbelt and pulled the thing off. “I’m so not getting into this with you. You coming?”

 

The grin that he gives her could almost be described for dazzling, and she returned one of her own. The whole day was so… surreal. Like she’d been transported to a parallel world with a parallel Lucifer, or he was now another man wearing Lucifer’s skin, except that he is still undeniably Lucifer. He’s tried to get into her pants no less than sixty-three times over the course of the day. He referred to himself as the devil at least five times and reiterated his favourite nickname for Dan twice when she called to check on Trixie. His voice broke through her thoughts with a whine.

“To the house with no food? And no scotch?”

 

“I have scotch, Lucifer.”

 

Lucifer reared back, temporarily taken aback by her admission. “Really?”

 

“Don’t look so shocked: I drink!”

 

“Yes, but not often. And it’s usually tequila, cocktails, wine or  _very occasionally_  a whiskey. Doesn’t strike me as your tipple of choice to keep at home.”

 

“It’s not: it’s yours.” She smiled teasingly, giving him a gentle push on his shoulder. “I picked some up ages ago in case you asked but you always just moan about it instead.”

 

He looked torn between amusement and indignation, making Chloe’s smile grow into a mischievous grin. “I – you cheeky minx! You’ve had some there for how long? No! No I don’t want to know the extent of your… deviousness.” He threw the keys to her and pulled his long frame out of the car. “I’m going to need to rain check you on that, however. Much as it pains me, I did promise Maze a longer conversation - and we both know she’s not known for patience. She’s on her way to pick me up now.”

 

Chloe tried to hide the wave of disappointment that rose up, but something must have shown on her face because there he was, a few inches too close again, his gaze capturing hers. “She said something about takeaway, later? I’ll bring the take out if you provide the scotch.”

 

It felt like there was a smile constantly plastered on her face today. Chloe aimed for neutral, injecting a little annoyance into her tone. “How long was I asleep? How did I miss all this?”

 

“I borrowed your phone when we got here and had a little catch up with Maze. Ah -  speak of the demon!”

 

Maze drove just like Lucifer, Chloe observed: aggressive and fast. She screeched the black convertible to a smart stop beside Chloe’s car and nodded in greeting as she jumped over to the passenger seat and called out, “Hey, Decker. Just gonna borrow him.”

 

Chloe nodded numbly, gesturing for Lucifer to go. This felt  _so weird_  and she kind of liked it and was kind of terrified by it. Was there a memo she missed _? I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone or something_ , she thought. The day they’d just spent together, and this, and  _just gonna borrow him_? If she didn’t know the man better, she’d have thought they were dating… but Lucifer wasn’t the type. And they weren’t dating, weren’t on a  _date_. It was just a “day of fun” as he’d said.

“I’ll, I’ll see you later,” she stuttered. Lucifer grinned in reply and climbed eagerly behind the wheel, quickly gunning the engine. He gave her a small salute and spun an indecent reverse turn before speeding off.

 

Chloe wandered into the apartment not entirely sure if she’d just dreamt the whole thing.

 

*

 

Mazikeen tapped her long fingernails on the bar in Lucifer’s apartment while the man in question busied himself with selecting a drink.

 

“What. Happened.”

 

“Maze! First things first.” He gestured to the bar. “Scotch.”

 

She rolled her eyes but obediently passed him a glass tumbler. She could feel his unease, even now. The bond with her maker was weakened on this plane, but very much still there. Whatever had messed with it three days ago appeared to have stopped.

She gave him precisely 2.73 seconds to drink, and then pressed again.

 

“Now.”

 

Lucifer glanced sharply down at her. “You don’t give orders to me, Mazikeen.” He took another long drink. “And I don’t know what happened. One minute, I was leaving Chloe that voicemail, then something knocked me out and when I woke up, I was somewhere else. Almost Limbo – desert, everywhere and constant daylight. There was never even twilight, just blazing heat and light every minute of every hour. Time was different there. And, when I woke up there,” he paused and ran a hand over his face, “My wings were back.”

 

Mazikeen slammed her glass down so hard that it shattered. Not possible. She’d cut them off herself; cleaned up their burnt remains on the beach. Inflicting that pain on him had been, without a doubt, the hardest order he’d she’d ever carried out. It  _hurt her_  to do that to him.

 

“Back.” Was all she said aloud.

 

“Back.” He agreed, and shrugged off his jacket and starting work on his shirt. “See for yourself.”

 

A moment and a roll of his shoulders later, and there they were in all their former glory. They shone, literally, not just because of the brilliance of their colour and the evening sun falling through the windows, but from the very nature of their divinity.

 

“H- how is this possible?”

 

“Dad’s a bastard: it’s got to be his idea of a grand joke. Some  _further way_  to punish me.” He shrugged and they were gone again, shifted back out of the mortal plane. “I’ll get them off again soon.”

 

Mazikeen resisted the urge to shudder. Not at the thought of blood or pain or mess: she was born literally for such things, but inflicting that on him again… this damned mortal world was making her weak. Emotions like this… they were never a problem before. And was he forgetting his pesky mortality problem? She said as much to him as she fetched a new tumbler and filled it with some scotch of her own.

 

“I was hardly planning on inviting the Detective.”

 

“But you  _were_  planning on telling her the truth.”

 

Lucifer frowned, swirling his drink to make little whirlpools.

 

“Yes, I was. I  _am_ : I need to get what I am through that logical brain of hers. I’m not sure it’s a good idea but… I don’t think I can avoid it any longer. It’s been quite some time, and I haven’t changed my mind.”

 

“Right – you said it was like Limbo. So…”

 

“So it was considerably longer than three days for me, Maze.”

 

“But not Limbo, so how  _long_ , Lucifer.”

 

The devil locked her angry stare with one of his own. She was walking a fine line between forthright questions and outright disrespect, but she always had; it was why he liked her, most of the time. His eyes flashed red with hellfire, his stance shifted imperceptibly to something more menacing, his presence filling the room. All his calm and pleasant words…  He was playing pretend, holding in the darkness. He was livid. Maze grinned at the realisation and waited for him to continue.

 

“Thirty years.” He said coldly. Lucifer drank another glass filled to the brim, then continued, his stance settling back down again to a more mortal level. “Thirty years of sun and heat and not one other despicable soul. There was never a night, no once the whole time I was there. No moon, no stars, no darkness. The only things there were these… creatures. They were more demon than animal, without a doubt, but they were neither, or at least nothing that I’ve ever seen or made before. They could hurt me like another angel could, though. That or I was mortal there.” He gestured at the air, “Full of hate and… nothingness: no desire, no instinct. All teeth and claws and  _so much darkness_. They could learn, though. And they liked to hunt in packs. The larger ones - they realised I was easier to catch if there was a group of them. They caught me every once in a while. I always escaped, of course. But they learnt from each one.   
I escaped and I escaped and I killed  _so many_  of them sometimes I thought I’d turn the whole damned place  _red_  with their blood but there was always  _more_  of them coming and never anything but desert. But: I always escaped,  _always_. For thirty  _fucking_  years, I escaped! Except for… except for the last time.” He stilled, looking intently at his glass and then back at her. “That last time there was no way out, Maze. It was quite nice, in a way, realising I could stop. Stop fighting, stop running, stop escaping.  
And then… I was on the beach. Here.”

 

Maze started planning the different ways to dismember living creatures. “Just… just like that? Bamf! Beach?”

 

“Just like that.” He said bitterly. “He always did love a bit of trial and torment in desert landscapes.”

 

“How? Why?” Maze shook her head in disbelief.  _I’ll wipe every last one of those blasted things from existence_ , she vowed.

 

“Because He’s a fucking  _git_ , Maze.”

 

“You think it was God?” She asked, but he shook his head and downed his drink.

 

“I don’t know! Yes! No? The creatures… they weren’t the work of dear old Dad, unless he’s got really twisted while I was gone But who else could put me somewhere and take me out again, and restore my wings? Who else but Him?”

 

Maze had no answer to that: who indeed? “So, then you went to our apartment? Why didn’t you go home? You’d have finished healing there at least. You know what Decker does to you.”

 

“Because… because I missed her, Maze. For thirty  _fucking_  years, I missed her. I missed it all!: I missed  _you_. I missed  _Linda_. The douche, not so much. I even missed the Detective’s spawn.” He sighed. “But most of all I missed  _her_.”

 

It wouldn’t go well for anyone if news of the devil being a) mortal near a specific human and b) in love with said human got out to the wider supernatural world. And surely the end of the world was near? The devil was  _in love_  and he didn’t even realise it. Maze scoffed, mostly disgusted and slightly amused. And in no small part, worried for her creator. “Lucifer, you gotta get a grip.”

 

It was, it turned out, the wrong thing to say. Before she could blink, he was upon her with red eyes and a vicious snarl. He’d gotten a very good grip: around her throat. “Do not push me, Mazikeen.”

 

She couldn’t speak, so she nodded. This was the Lucifer she was used to: this was something she understood. After another beat, he released her and stepped back. Maze said nothing and didn’t bother to raise a hand to her throat – the pain there was trivial and the damage minor. It’d heal in a few minutes. She watched him coolly as he paced back and forth.

 

“I know Dad put her in my path, but that’s not her fault. I tried blaming her and that didn’t work. I told her no going backwards, I told her I’d explain everything. And I want to. I  _should_. But what do I do with my wings? Why did He do it?”

 

The workings of God were not something Maze, as a demon, liked to dwell on. The machinations of a supreme celestial being did not do to be dwelled by anyone, in her experience. Unfortunately, despite millennia of trying to convince Lucifer, he’d yet to come around to her way of thinking. “So. What are we gonna do?”

 

“We’re going back to your place with some Indian food.”

 

Maze blinked, confused. “Indian? Food?”

 

“Yes. The Detective’s guilty pleasure when Beatrice is away." He added when she folded her arms in disbelief, "She told me once.” 

 

“What’s that gonna solve?”

 

He grinned. “Absolutely  _nothing_.” 


	5. Just Can’t Get Enough

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews guys!! This one is... fluff. It's just fluff, but there are plot and action points coming soon - I promise! The title is inspired by  _Just can't get enough_  by The Sea (from the Lucifer soundtrack)

 

**Chapter Five: Just Can’t Get Enough**

Chloe finished up her video chat with Trixie as soon as she heard the dull roar of Lucifer’s Corvette pull up outside, promising the girl that while she’d say hello to him and Maze for her, the big hug may not go over too well.

She turned the tablet off and quickly pulled down glasses, the bottle of scotch and a bottle of red from the highest cupboard in the kitchen. She wasn’t in the mood for scotch, but a glass of wine would go down very nicely, she thought.

 

“Detective! I’m back!” Lucifer shouted, letting himself in and Chloe hid a snort, pretending to cough. _Why am I not surprised?_ “We bought food!”

 

“I can see that,” said Chloe, her eyebrows rising to her hairline at the four bags of take-out they carried between them. Well, that Maze carried. Lucifer held a bag of poppadum’s aloft like it was the feature of the feast. “Hungry, much?”

 

“Always.” Maze dumped the bags unceremoniously on the island with a grimace. “I have to change first, get these clothes in the wash.”

 

Chloe waved her off and started to get out plates and bowls to take to the table, only to be stopped dead in her tracks by Lucifer, tapping a well-shoed foot on the floor impatiently. “Well, _where’s my scotch, Detective?”_

 

“Open your eyes, Lucifer: it’s on the island.”

 

“Ah yes! Oh!” he rolled the bottle on his hand, scrutinising it. He grinned at her. “It’s quite a good one as well – I’m impressed, Detective!”

 

Chloe smiled back, relieved. She’d looked up the kind of scotch he usually drank (like a fish) and not for the first time wondered how he afforded the lifestyle he lived and breathed. There was no way she could afford to start getting _that_ kind of scotch, not unless she wanted to get a second job. She’d settled for one that the expert at a whiskey specialist store on the outskirts of the city had assured her was a very good scotch, for her budget.

 

Chloe laughed as she unpacked enough containers of food to feed at least six people, not just three. “Seriously, did you leave any food behind?”

 

He clapped his hands together and looked very pleased with himself. “I wanted to make sure we had every base covered! We’ve got one with chicken, one with lamb, one with paneer, one with chickpeas, one with lentils and one with potatoes. Plus all the good naan bread, of course. And rice. Maze said we had to have rice but I don’t really understand why – it’s so _bland_ and _blah_ but she insisted so, there’s some of that too. And there’s onion bhaji's and some pakora in there too.”

 

Chloe shook her head in disbelief. Leftover Indian food for the next few days wouldn’t be a bad thing – and it would save her from cooking.

 

“Wine or scotch, Maze?”

 

“Neither,” Maze strode straight by the table laden with take-out and slipped on a jacket, “A job came in. I’ll see you later.”

 

“Stay safe!” Chloe called out after her, making Lucifer chuckle. She gave him a questioning look.

 

“She’s a demon, Detective. I keep telling you!”

 

“Right, of course. And demons can’t get hurt?”

 

“Well, yes, they can. Of course, they can. Everything ever created has a weakness, a way to be caused harm. Look at the Death Star! And even cockroaches can’t stand acid.”

 

“So by your logic, my telling Maze to stay safe isn’t unreasonable at all.”

 

He tilted his head to one side, “Perhaps not. Still: a petty chase after some errant human isn’t something to trouble her. She could do it in her sleep!”

 

Chloe sat down, passing over cutlery and looking over the huge array of food spread across the table and pondering the tone to his voice. It sounded like pride, and she was curious as to the source. She skipped over the references to Maze being a demon without a second thought but did think that the poor woman would definitely be hungry at whatever time she came back – presuming she would be home at all over the next few days, of course.

“I should set some aside from Maze.”

 

“Hmm, good idea. Let’s give her a whole one of these rice ones as well. She wanted them.” He picked up one of the pilau rice orders with a look of disdain and pushed it to the far end of the table, where Chloe gathered a good-sized portion of everything for the hungry bounty hunter, then sat back down.

 

“Drink your wine and relax, Detective.”

 

Chloe wanted to tut, or roll her eyes but found herself sighing in agreement. There was no reason _not_ to. She took a deep drink and decided to try some of the lamb and paneer dishes first. After several minutes of silence, broken only by their eating, she remembered her manners. “This is lovely, thank you Lucifer.”

 

“You’re more than welcome, Detective. I trust you’ve had a good day? That my _Decker’s Day Off_ was a success?”

 

She nodded enthusiastically since he’d caught her with a mouthful of naan. “Yes,” she said finally with a swallow and then a smile, “I really did. Did you?”

  

“I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun!” he said honestly. “I don’t suppose you’d rather do that than work, Detective?”

 

She shook her head, “That’s not how the world works for the rest of us, I _have_ to work. Y’know – if I want to keep a roof over Trixie’s head and food on the table. Electricity. Water…”

 

Lucifer put down his knife and fork and looked at her intently, giving her pause.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

 

_And there it is again_. They still weren’t discussing the ‘them’ situation, still avoiding the huge, grey, unmissable elephant in the room despite having spent nearly a full day together, relatively alone. She laughed him off, unwilling to end the brilliant day on anything possibly sour. “You’re not my sugar daddy, Lucifer!”

 

“But I can take care of you – I always will. If you don’t want to be a homicide detective, just say the word!”

 

_But then I wouldn’t be your Detective_ , she thought sadly. She was under no illusions that without her interesting day job, Lucifer would quickly grow bored with her entirely normal private life, which revolved almost entirely around Trixie – and she liked it that way. This was what she was trying to avoid tonight turning into. She sighed quietly and gave up trying to eat. “What’s gotten into you?”

 

“Nothing, lately,” he said cheekily, but then he carried on in a more serious note. “I just wanted you to know, that’s all. That you don’t have to do this, what with Trixie getting upset and all. In case it was causing you distress.”

 

She felt herself softening at the earnest expression on his face. So what if they were avoiding the larger issue still? Here he was, right now, and they were having a nice time. “Thank you,” she said, aiming for something graceful and probably, she thought, falling short.

 

The lapsed into another comfortable silence, reminiscent of this morning and their breakfast. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t manage to eat even half of the food, though they did make a very good effort. Chloe stacked their plates in the dishwasher, poured herself another glass of wine, and joined Lucifer on the couch. He sat with his feet on the coffee table, shoe’s off and arms spread over the back of the seats, a fresh helping of scotch in hand.

He looked positively _cute_ , wiggling his toes in their black socks. She giggled, then clapped her hand over her mouth in surprise. _I’ll just put this wine down now_.

 

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. “See something that amuses you, Detective?”

 

“No,” she shook her head, “Not at all.”

 

“Don’t _lie_ Detective!”

 

She pointed at his feet and her wine. “I’ve never seen you in socks. It’s cute. And I forgot how much I drank earlier today – this wine went _straight_ to my head.”

 

“That’s no reason to stop.”

 

“It is if I don’t want a hangover.”

 

“Yes, they _do_ look annoying. Never had one, but they look awful. Well – people with them do. All pale, dark circles, bad breath, bad hair… not fun.”

 

Was she supposed to be annoyed, shocked or intrigued? “Right.” She shifted down the sofa until she sat next to him, and propped her own feet on the coffee table. “Knowing my luck, if I did get drunk tonight, I’ll get called in on a case tomorrow at the crack of down, and the new Lieutenant will be there a day early.”

 

“New Lieutenant? But I saw Olivia today!”

 

“It was her last day – didn’t you see all the balloons?”

 

“There were balloons?” He looked genuinely surprised. Chloe smirked.

 

“Yes, Lucifer. Olivia’s moving East, and we’re getting Marcus Pierce from Monday. He’s supposed to be _brilliant_.” Chloe felt the nervousness she’d been putting off for the weeks since the announcement remind her of its presence in her chest. She rubbed it absently and took a deep breath.

 

“Nervous, Detective?”

 

_How does he do that?_ “No – yes -,” she made a frustrated noise that wasn’t really verbal, “New boss, y’know?”

 

“No.”

 

“Right, of course, you don’t.” Chloe huffed and grabbed the remote control. “You staying for a movie?”

 

“ _Only_ if it’s not a ‘chick flick’”, he warned, “Maze tricked me into watching one once under the pretence of it being of the racy variety, _never again!_ ”

 

Chloe flicked through the channels, she didn’t have an awful lot of movie channels to choose from but she had a few. _That leaves…_ _horror_ _or… old horror._ “Have you seen The Shining?”

 

“Actually, no. You like horror films, Detective?”

 

She shrugged. “I like old ones. The new ones kinda suck.”

 

They watched the film, although Lucifer spent just as much time talking as not: a running commentary on humans perception of _evil_ , how much better the movie would be if it contained more frequent and more explicit sex scenes, and ponderings on Stephen Kings mental state. By the time the credits rolled, the bottle of wine was finished and so was much of her Scotch supply. Chloe felt her eyes sliding shut without her say so and jerked them open with a violent shake of her head.

 

“Relax, Detective. It’s late: sleep seems the logical thing to do.”

 

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, but not awkwardly so. She was curled up with one cushion, her legs tucked up off the floor; he with his long legs still on the coffee table, sleeves rolled up and arms across the back of the seats. He rolled his head to look at her, a smile tugging at his lips.

 

“I’m ok. What time is it?”

 

“Oh… about midnight?”

 

Her head felt pleasantly foggy, and she couldn’t find a reason to be annoyed at being up late slightly tipsy, relaxing with her friend. _My friend_ _who I kissed_. “Oh. No wonder I’m tired.”

 

“Yes, I suppose the bottle of wine has _nothing_ to do with it.”

 

Chloe threw the cushion she’d been hugging to her chest at him. “I’m not drunk, Lucifer.”

 

“Never said you were, Detective.” He smiled, lopsided because of the angle of his head, and Chloe giggled. It burst out of her in a rush, and then she couldn’t stop. She found her stupid, girlish giggles _funny_ because they were so _ridiculous_ , and then she kept laughing. Lucifer stared at her incredulously. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yes,” she said finally, after a few more snuck out. She drew in a deep breath. “Yes. I’m going to bed. Do you want to stay here tonight? You can’t drive back to Lux.”

 

“Why ever not?”

Chloe gestured to the scotch bottle.

“I don’t get drunk, Detective.”

 

“Humour me,” Chloe levered herself up to her feet and wobbled. The world was spinning ever so slightly. “Ok, maybe a bit drunk.”

 

 “So it would appear.” Lucifer rose quickly and steadied her with both arms around her elbows, “Am I in for a repeat performance of last time?”

 

“No, I, we… we kissed. And you left. So no.” She shook her head and pulled out of his grasp. _Stop talking Chloe_ – but the wine had loosened her tongue and she there was so much that neither of them said.

 

Lucifer sucked in a breath. “You know it wasn’t like that -”

 

“I don’t need you to skate around the truth, Lucifer. You’ve been distant for months, married Candy, didn’t tell me about your _stepmom_ and then there was that thing at the pier? And the voicemail you said you’d explain? So no: I won’t try and drunkenly seduce you. I’m too busy being drunkenly _angry_ at you.”

 

“You’re mad at me?” he looked down at her through long, dark eyelashes and Chloe felt her flash of anger subside at the hurt in those brown eyes.

 

“Yes! No! I don’t know, Lucifer.” Chloe threw up her hands. “I thought we were… something, I guess.”

 

“We _are_ , Detective. I just, I meant what I said: no more going backwards. I _want_ to move forwards but the desert…” He trailed off and shrugged his shoulders, “It’s raised some questions, not relating to us, that have put a pin in our conversation, for now.”

 

A small part of Chloe was still staring in disbelief that he hadn’t denied it, that he had actually _confirmed_ that they were something more than friends than partners, that there was something between them. She gave that part of herself a mental shake and tried to focus on Lucifer’s face, despite the slight tilt the world had taken on.

“For now?”

 

“For now.”

 

In the morning, she would blame the wine. But right now, she didn’t care: she’d liked last night, despite the little sleep she’d gotten trying to figure out what had happened to his scars. “Don’t go. Sleep here.”

 

“You’re inviting me to… stay?”

 

“To _sleep_ Lucifer. Like last night. No sex. Not until we sort out what this is. Not until you tell me everything.”

 

His eyes lingered over her lips for a moment, then tracked back to capture her gaze. “Very well, Detective.”


	6. Chapter Six: Lifetaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No fluff this time - and towards the end we have our first delve into Lucifer’s POV, which was incredibly difficult. Akin to pulling teeth! Chloe is much easier for me to channel. Much of the chat between Amenedial and Lucifer is pulled from Season 3, and I can’t take the credit.  
> The title ‘Lifetaker’ is from the track Jc Autobody from the Lucifer ‘soundtrack’ and I listened to it about a dozen times while writing this chapter!

**Chapter Six: Lifetaker**

There was something undeniably comforting about waking up next to somebody else, about rising to consciousness and sensing a warm body no more than an arms width away. Not because she  _needed_ a man; more than she liked the comforting reminder that one wasn’t alone. There were also the small details: like the entire bed is warm, rather than just half; the soft, quiet breaths of another person sleeping nearby.   
Chloe was proud of her independence (always had been) but after her marriage with Dan broke down she’d found that waking up alone, half the bed cold and silent, was one of the hardest things to adjust to.

And now today, for the second day in a row, she’d shared a bed with Lucifer. Whilst alcohol-induced sleep was not the most restful, the wine had succeeded in dulling her need for answers to the mystery of his missing scars.  _Which just… isn’t even possible_. Well, it was, but it also wasn’t. His reaction to her hand nearly touching them was genuine, and Lucifer was steadfast in his promise to never lie. Wearing prosthetic scars was surely tantamount to lying.  _And why even would he?_

Chloe shook her head to herself and sipped her coffee. Lucifer had picked an “extra shot, almond milk mocha latte, no whip” concoction, which she rather liked, while they drove to a crime scene. Her 48 hours of downtime had lasted just over 24: unfortunately, criminals didn’t really care whether it was her day off or not, so here she was, on a Sunday, walking around a body found in a shipping container at the port and trying to put her feelings for Lucifer back into a mental box, so she could focus on the task before her.

 

“What’ve you got, Ella?”

 

The other woman bounced up from her position on the floor where she’d been taking photographs of the body. “Whoever did this took their time, for sure. All this blood on the floor,” she gestured to the wide, intricate circle made up of symbols and words painted in blood that surrounded the body, “came from this dude. And they did that first, drained his blood. The cuts on his body were made post-mortem.”

 

Chloe nodded, pursing her lips. “Premeditated?”

 

“I can’t see how it wasn’t. And it doesn’t look like they drained the blood here. Whoever it was, they killed him somewhere else, then bought the body and painted the floor here afterwards.”

 

Chloe thanked the forensic scientist before wandering over to where Lucifer stood, uncharacteristically quiet, looking intently at the scene.

 

“Something of a wordsmith, our killer.”

 

Chloe raised her eyebrows, “You can read that? It’s Latin.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You speak Latin.”

 

“I speak  _every language_ , Detective. And I can read quite a few: Latin is one.”

 

Chloe hummed in response. She highly doubted  _anyone_ could speak  _every language_  but the boast didn’t even sound absurd the way he delivered it: as a matter of absolute fact. It was so very Lucifer she didn’t even bat an eye before gesturing to the floor. “What does it say? I’m still waiting for some language experts to get back to me.”

 

Lucifer frowned and leant back on his heels slightly. “Nothing, really. Well, it does say  _something_  obviously, but it’s... nothing. It just says: “ _I am returned_  and  _my time has come_ , alternating with  _your time has come_ , over and over.”

“I am returned? Who?”

 

“A male, by the spelling.” He scoffed, “They didn’t  _sign it_ , Detective.”

She rolled her eyes and mentally catalogued the information – it was next to useless right now, but it would hopefully become more useful as they gained more information. “Come on – we’ve got an ID for the victim: Nathan Hammond. He was a warden at one of the storage units nearby. Let’s go.”

Chloe drove them to ‘Taylors Access Storage Solutions’ and ignored Lucifer’s usual comments about the speed at which she drove (which was the limit, thank you very much) and how early she braked (in good time). She gave him a sidelong glance as she waited at a set of lights.

“So how do you know Latin?”

 

“It was all the rage for a while. A large portion of the souls spoke it when they arrived down in Hell.”

 

 _Right._  “Come on Lucifer, really? Were you just like, a geek at school or something? Or do they teach Latin in England still?

 

“Porque não acreditam em mim? Vad måste jag göra?”

 

“What? Are you okay?”

 

“I said, why don’t you believe me? What do I have to do? In Portuguese and Swedish.” He said smugly.

 

Chloe pulled over into the nearly empty parking lot outside the main building for the storage company: a large, tall, concrete monstrosity with few windows and shook her head. “You could say you were speaking  _any_  language and I wouldn’t be able to correct you. I can just about manage Spanish.”

 

Lucifer leant over, far too much for the pretence of undoing his seat belt – he was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek.

“Tongues are one of my many specialities, Detective.”

His voice was low, deep and lustful – a tone he didn’t often inflict on her, preferring to keep his sexual advances lighter hearted. But this, this was… teasing.  _So inappropriate._ She thought the words without conviction - couldn’t bring herself to say them out loud either. She found herself turning learning towards him instead, turning her face into his. She saw surprise flicker briefly in his eyes. “You talk the talk, Lucifer,” she teased back, “But one day you’ll have to prove it.”

Chloe undid her seat belt and retreated as quickly as was humanly possible, closing the door smoothly behind her. She thought she heard Lucifer say something to himself while she walked towards the company reception, but it was too soft for her to catch.

Lucifer followed in a few steps behind, after the receptionist had already disappeared to find her boss. He walked in buttoning up his suit jacket with a mischievous smirk lighting up his features. She expected him to make another comment about tongues, or some other innuendo, but he said nothing. He just stood behind her as she waited for the receptionist to fetch the manager. Chloe was about to step back from the cheap, white desk with its fake potted plant and calendar with motivational quotes (“Someone's sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago”, this month) when she realised just  _how_  close he was. She could feel the material in his suit on the back of her bare arms. If she moved a few millimetres back, she would no doubt end up with her back pressed to his front. Whilst the idea was pleasant, she didn’t appreciate the indiscretion he was showing: they were... something, and she didn’t mind the idea of being pressed against his body, but it was something else entirely to play  _this_  kind of game here and now. He was boxing her into a response, and she wasn’t going to give in.

“Lucifer,” she said quietly, not wanting to be overheard if the receptionist was within earshot, “Do you want to watch the ‘Sexual Harassment in the Workplace’ video again?”

 

He bent down to her ear, still not touching her, and whispered a reply. “No, Detective.”

 

“Then back the Hell off. We’re at  _work_.”

 

He dutifully stepped to the side, allowing Chloe to finally fix him with a glare. Lucifer spread his hands out innocently in front of him as if to say ‘Who, me?’ and ‘What?’ at the same time.  _Except there’s nothing innocent about that_   _grin_ , she thought with her own internal smirk.

 

“But when we’re not at work?”

 

“When we’re not at work, you owe me a conversation, remember?”

 

“After that?”

 

Chloe was saved from replying – seriously what did he want from her? She wasn’t going to  _promise_  to sleep with him! – by the return of Tricia, the receptionist and her boss.

 

“This is Detective Decker, Ray, and her partner,” Tricia said to someone behind her as she came back into the room, “Oh my.”

 

Tricia was gazing up at Lucifer at a loss for words. Chloe rolled her eyes (for what felt like at least the twelfth time of the day already) and tutted. “This is Lucifer, my partner.”

 

“Lucifer Morningstar,” he held out his hand to shake Tricia’s own shaking hand, “Pleasure to meet you.”

 

“ _Pleasure_ , hah!” Tricia giggled, high pitched and girly, then clapped a hand over her mouth, still unable to look away from Lucifer. Chloe stepped into her line of sight to cut the simpering short and looked at Ray. Ray was also looking at Lucifer, but not wantonly – that or he was in better in control of himself than Tricia.

 

“Ray Shaw. Trish said you’re here about Hammond? He’s not here: he didn’t show up to work yesterday or this morning. If he doesn’t have a family emergency, he’s not going to be working here much longer.”

 

“I’m afraid Nathan was found deceased this morning.” Chloe said calmly, “We’re investigating the circumstances of his death. Do you know when he was last at work? Or when anyone here last had any contact with him?”

 

Ray’s eyes had widened and his face paled at her words –  _a shock then_ , she noted. Trisha gasped and fell back into her chair, tears filling her eyes. The manager stood for a moment at a loss for words, then nodded, righting himself. “Of course, Detective Decker. I’ll check the time sheets – I think he should've been in on Friday night, but I’ll check.”

 

Ray gestured them through reception to an off-white corridor beyond and into the first door on the right, labelled ‘Office’. Chloe spied a door labelled ‘Toilets’ and another ‘Kitchen’ before two large double doors opened up at the end of the corridor, through which the storage units started.

“Excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting… anyone.” He said, hastily cleaning away sheets of paper haphazardly strewn across his desk into one pile and tossing an apple core into the bin.

She waved him off and ignored Lucifer’s curled lip of disgust. She was quite aware of his unspoken preference for things being clean and tidy: his fastidious appearance, his perfectly kept apartment, the immaculate nature of Lux was all evidence enough.

Ray clicked his mouse a few times, eyes scanning the screen, then he turned it round to face them. “Yeah – logs show he worked his shift on Friday as normal but didn’t show up Saturday. I don’t know if any of the other guys have seen him after Friday.”

 

“Do you have their contact details? I’d like to check with them.”

 

Ray nodded and shortly printed her the details of the other employees he said were friends with Nathan, and then gave her Nathan’s home address. She thanked the man and gave him her details, in case he thought of anything else. She wasn’t expecting him to call.

 

“Where to now then, Detective?” Lucifer asked as he folded his long legs back into her car.

 

Chloe frowned: she didn’t really have any leads at this point. She needed to do some digging. “To his home, to see if there’s any clues there. I’ll phone in these details to the precinct and get them to contact everyone else.”

 

“Well, that sounds dull.”

 

“You never know, Nathan could have an amazing sex toy collection for you to gawk at.”

 

Lucifer straightened in his chair, sharing a grin with Chloe. “Yes, perhaps. One can hope, Detective, one can hope!”

 

*

 

Nathan Hammond lived in an entirely unremarkable apartment. He did not have an amazing sex toy collection – much to Lucifer’s disappointment. He didn’t appear to have a girlfriend (or boyfriend) if the place was anything to go by either: no spare toothbrush, just one mug in the sink, one plate on the drying rack. No photos of him and another in couple-like poses, though as Chloe peered at the photographs stuck to the refrigerator she did note something else she hadn’t appreciated at the crime scene.

 

“He looks a lot like you, Lucifer.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Chloe pointed at a photograph of Nathan and several others in suits at a wedding. “Nathan, he looked like you. I didn’t notice it before.”

 

Lucifer peered over her shoulder. “No, he didn’t. How could he even come  _close_?”

 

“Tall, well-built but still a bit on the lanky side? Dark hair, brown eyes, fashion stubble.” She listed each thing off, gesturing again to the photo, “Come on, I’m not a hundred miles off.”

 

“ _Fashion stubble? Lanky?”_ Lucifer raised his eyebrows, “Are you mad?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Chloe wandered back into the living room, resolutely not thinking about the times she’d seen him naked and could attest that he did have more muscle than one could attribute to ‘lanky’.   
She poked around the room, trying to spot anything that felt out of place or that might give her a clue as to where he might have gone on Saturday. The lock was still intact when they arrived, so she didn’t think this was the location of his abduction. After a few minutes, she wandered into the bedroom whilst Lucifer fingered through a stack of gaming, fitness and what looked like a porn, magazine pile on the floor by the sofa.

She stilled in the bedroom doorway, the handle still in her hand. “Lucifer.”

 

“Detective? What’s wrong?” He quickly joined her in the doorway, a concerned look on his face.

 

“Look.”

 

The room showed clear signs of a struggle, but that wasn’t what had brought her to a standstill. The wall was covered in bloody handprints.

 

Lucifer slid around her into the room, sniffing. Chloe did a double take.  _Sniffing?_

 

“Do you smell that, Detective?” he said, wrinkling his nose.

 

Chloe took a long breath in through her nose as she stepped into the room, already dialling Ella’s number to tell her about the second crime scene. “Something smells… rotten? There’s probably some food under the bed. Eggs, maybe.”

 

Lucifer shook his head, “No, that’s not it, it’s,” He stepped around the room, taking a close look at the handprints, lightly pressing a finger to the edge of one –

 

Chloe put a hand over her phone and quickly bit out, “Lucifer! This is a crime scene!”

 

“…  _Sulphur_.” He continued, completely ignoring her. “I think we should leave, Detective.”

 

“We’re not going anywhere, Lucifer, not until someone can come and preserve the integrity of the scene before Forensics get here.” Chloe returned her focus to the cop on the other end of the line, passing on the address. That done, she hung up and turned back to find Lucifer ushering her out of the bedroom.

 

“Whoever killed Mr Hammond is long gone, and probably already hunting his next victim,” he argued, putting his hands on his hips.

 

Chloe held up a hand, stopping anything he was going to say next, “What makes you say that?”

Was that a flicker of apprehension she saw in his eyes? A string of tension in his shoulders? Chloe told herself she was imagining it – Lucifer was practically unflappable, and blood had never fazed him before. “Explain. Now.”

 

“I can’t, not  _yet_.” He said earnestly, “I need to go and speak with Maze, when we’re done here. Can you drop me off?”

 

She quelled the stirrings of disappointment that started to grow at the idea of leaving him somewhere, and that he wouldn’t reveal whatever theory or suspicious he was obviously harbouring. After being around each other for nearly 48 hours, the thought of it both left her unsettled. Was this just his way of getting out of saying anything? Of not having to give her the explanation he’d repeatedly promised? Was this a Lucifer-version of chickening out? And, a small, insecure part of her that still stung whispered:  _will he disappear again?_

“Sure.” Was all she said after a pause that was probably half a second too long. She looked up, realising she was staring at her hands and found Lucifer watching her intently, standing just within her personal space as was his want. Her mind flashed back to how he’d looked down at her on the beach, and her breath caught in her throat. Was he thinking about that day too? Chloe returned his gaze until the shrill ring of her phone made her jump, breaking whatever spell had fallen over them. Lucifer backed up a few steps and smiled while she answered.

 

“Decker…. Right. Thanks.”

 

“Who was that?” he asked.

 

“Just the language guys: you were right.”

 

“Of course, I was right, Detective.” Lucifer rolled his eyes but stopped when two uniformed officers arrived at the open apartment door. “ _Hello,_  officers. Well – I guess that’s our cue, Detective?”

 

*

 

Lucifer lounged on a sofa, a demon blade hanging loosely from his fingers as he contemplated the case he and the Detective were currently investigating, and new… old… appendages. Maze had refused to cut the things out again,  _defying_ him as if that were allowed. Still, served him right for releasing her from her Oath, he supposed – but was it too much to ask for a little damned respect from his demon? He’d managed, with great difficulty, to hack the things off as soon as he returned from consulting with the Detective, his first time alone since his return, but here he was four hours later and they were  _back_ , returned with what felt like a strong, sudden push. The ash of the previous pair still littered his balcony.

The elevator doors slid open softly, interrupting his thoughts. He didn’t bother turning around to see who it was: he could sense his Brother before he even stepped off the elevator. And he’d been expecting him.

 “Amenadiel, I was wondering when you would show up.”  _Since I text you forty minutes ago._

 

Amenadiel walked around the sofas, into his line of sight, and sat opposite. He leant his forearms onto his knees. “What happened?”

 

“It was terrible, Brother. I was kidnapped.”

 

“No, Luci. I meant Mom.”

 

“Ah.” Confusion still his movements briefly, then he remembered.  _The beach, the sword, Mother._  Some things had slipped a little further into memory: but he did remember letting his brother know what happened. “Well, didn't you get my text?”

 

“What? You mean the string of nonsensical emojis?” Amenadiel snorted. “Fire, sword, doughnut, spaceman, clock, dancing lady, flashlight, thumbs up. How am I supposed to know what that means?” He pulled out his phone and showed it to Lucifer.

 

Lucifer rolled his eyes and pointed to each little cartoon in turn and spoke slowly like he’d seen adults do with their mortal children (although he’d not observed the Detective use this particular technique). “I ignited the flaming sword, used it to cut a hole in space and time, Mum's light flooded through it, then it closed up behind her. All good!”

 

Amenadiel blinked. “Mom's, Mom is gone?”

 

“Yes. I mean, she says goodbye forever, she loves you very much, et cetera, et cetera, but the good news is you get your necklace back. And we all know how attached to that you are.” He fished the object out of his pocket and passed it to his brother.

 

“So, back to more current issues. My kidnapping! And we appear to have a demon on the loose but, more on that in a minute. Now, clearly Dad is behind my kidnapping, but the question is, who's his emissary? And how were they able to render me unconscious? Either they used some kind of celestial weapon, or the detective was nearby.” He stilled, “And if it's the latter, then it has to be someone who knows she makes me vulnerable.”

 

“You were knocked out?” He nodded, then added more to himself than to Lucifer and muttered, “Explains why Maze is on a warpath.”

 

Lucifer allowed himself a small feeling of triumphant pride. Despite being no longer bound to him, and refusing to cut off his feathery little problems, she was still a passionate servant. Especially when it came to defending him. He’d done a good job when making her.

 

“Was hoping you could shed some light on that, actually. See, I had a  _lot_ of time to think, while I was away. And I thought a lot about how that God's favourite sons regained his powers, he's back to being his little bitch.”

 

“Maze said something similar. My answer’s the same: I have no idea who took you, or where they took you. I didn’t get my powers back, Luci. Yes, I was able to slow time, but uh, that appears to have been a  _one-time_ thing.”

 

Lucifer stopped spinning the blade and stared at his brother. He watched the muscles in his face and neck, imperceptible movements to a human eye; observed his breaths, looked for any minute sign of deceit. He watched in silence until satisfied, ready to strike at the first hint of deception. He saw none, waved his hand as if the answer meant nothing.

“But you have got your wings back?”

 

“No. Not yet.”

 

“Well, isn't that ironic? You want your wings back and didn't get them, and I get whacked over the head and hauled out to the desert. What did Maze tell you?”

 

“That's not ironic.”

 

“Well, not  _ironic_  ironic. More Alanis Morissette ironic. What did Maze say?”

 

“Just that you had returned, that you were taken somewhere akin to Limbo or Purgatory but wasn’t.”

 

Lucifer flipped the blade around a few times then placed it back in its box and stood. “Wherever I was, Dad knew about it. He gave me something.”

 

“Father gave you something? A gift?”

 

Lucifer wasn’t blind to the jealous accusation behind his fallen brother’s tone: he chose to ignore it. He had no time for his brothers’ petty insecurities as of this moment. He checked either side for breakable objects and flexed his wings into view. He stretched them out, shifting the feathers so they extended fully.

“Nothing ‘one-time’ about them. The pesky things seem to be a bit more tenacious this time around.”

 

“Luci! You cut them off?” Amenadiel stood and looked over his wings. He swallowed and sighed, refraining from further comment: surprising Lucifer. He stayed silent for nearly a full minute, “Luci, I'm not angry with you, that you somehow got your wings back, or even that you cut them off again. I was tested once, and I failed. Father must have a reason for this,” he gestured to the wings, “and we must have faith in his Plan.”

 

Lucifer snorted. “You’re just saying that because you want yours back too. Want mine? Maze is refusing to cut them out properly – but you can give it a go.”

 

Amenadiel shook his head in disbelief. “Why do you hate them so?”

 

“I don’t hate  _them_ ,” he said, tossing his head to his wings, then shifted them out and back, folding them out of sight, and the plane, “I hate that  _Dad_  thinks he can use them to control me.”

 

“And you know what Father wants?”

 

“He wants what he always wants,” he spat, “My obedience.”

 

Amenadiel raised his eyes skywards. “You still presume to know His thoughts, His plan, Luci. That never ends well.”

 

Lucifer felt a growl escape from his chest where the constant rage at his Father burnt, constantly. “What other reason can He have for giving them back to me, repeatedly?”

 

“I don’t know. And I won’t presume to guess.” He shook his head, spread his hands out and shrugged, leaning back into the sofa.

 

“Humour me.” Lucifer ground out through gritted teeth. “Brother.”

 

“What good will that do? You’re obviously wound up about this.”

 

“I was knocked unconscious, abducted and I have my wings back! Wound up is a gross understatement. And now someone is running around the city, killing and writing in blood and leaving the stench of sulphur behind them.”

 

“Do you think they’re connected?”

 

“Dad’s not known for dealing with demons, is he? No, he’s up to something  _far worse_.”

Lucifer ignored Amenadiel rolling his eyes, for now, and poured himself a glass of Scotch. He swallowed a mouthful of it and savoured the hot, burning liquid as it soothed his throat and quietened the rage building in his chest, however briefly it lasted. He hoped his silence was enough to suggest to his brother that he was dismissed, but the other angel didn’t take the hint. He leant against the bar, his head between his shoulders and his forehead lined in thought.

 

“That doesn’t mean that they’re not connected somehow, brother. We just need to figure out  _how_.”

 

“No, we  _need_  to figure out how to get these damned things off me!”

 

“What about this demon you mentioned? You’re not concerned about the humans of this city with one running around.”

 

Lucifer waved him off, “I have Maze looking into it. It could be a coincidence. You’re the one who’s supposed to be guarding the gates – you should look into it and fix it. It’s nothing to do with me, other than the Detective’s case.”

 

“I haven’t been able to guard the gates of Hell since I fell, Luci, you know that.”

 

“Well then, you were the last one on duty. It’s still your job. No wonder there’s demons getting loose! Pathetic.” Lucifer spat, “You didn’t even manage a year, Amenadiel. I did it for  _millennia_. I did as Dad bade for aeons, punishing the wicked, guarding the gates, and you couldn’t even lock the doors!”

Amenadiel’s forehead creased as he frowned, lips thinning as he pressed them together to resist the temptation to give in to the open taunt. When no reply was forthcoming, Lucifer sneered and strode up to the other angel in an open challenge.

“Well, Brother?”

 

The older angel returned Lucifer’s stare with an ease borne of practice. “I will see what I can find out, about your wings and the demon.” He sighed, then added, “It would be easier if you just asked out brothers yourself, Lucifer.”

 

Lucifer snorted.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> “Porque não acreditam em mim?” – approximately “Why don’t you believe me?” in Portuguese  
> “Vad måste jag göra?” – approximately “What do I have to do?” in Swedish 


	7. Chapter Seven: Old Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the delay, I had got major writer's block with this! It's annoying because I know where this story is going - I've got sections of it written out! Gah. I think Season 3 threw me for the first few episodes as well... Anyway! Onwards! Thank you for all the kudos and comments - I love reading the comments, they spur me on! <3

**Chapter Seven: Old Habits**

Chloe’s phone buzzed as she finished catching up with a couple of uniformed officers and Lucifer poked at the files on her desk. After the bloody find at Nathan’s apartment, Lucifer had begged off the case for the evening, pleading the need to catch up with his brother and Maze. She’d waved him off with practised ease and been relishing the idea of finally getting a quiet night to herself before realising, as she soaked in a long-overdue bubble bath, that the quiet was unsettling.  _Granted_ , he’d only been missing for a few days and  _granted_ , they’d spent an unusual amount of time together since his return, but these two things only served to make her feel his absence all the more keenly. She wanted to call him for a chat or text him to see what he was up to: and wasn’t that bizarre. The last time she’d wanted to do anything like that she’d in dating Dan! The urge to know what another was doing, if they were thinking of each other. Chloe had resisted the urge with an iron fist on her willpower and settled instead for a cup of hot chocolate (with just a dash of rum – she wasn’t sure whether she should blame Maze or Lucifer for the idea and bad influence it demonstrated).

As it was, she managed to get to sleep without Lucifer there. Despite the coldness of the bed and silence of the room - just as she had for the years before they’d ever shared a bed. However, as with the night he'd returned (from the desert, he still insisted) he consumed her thoughts. Without his distracting presence, her mind was free to puzzle over the Many Mysteries of Lucifer, as well as dissect the few clues they had for the current case: she didn’t get a restful night of sleep, broken as it was with bizarre dreams and lengthy bouts of tossing and turning. That morning, when she pulled in to the precinct, she was surprised to find Lucifer there, leaning against her desk with coffees in hand. In all the time she’d known him he’d not once beat her to work. Given that he owned a nightclub, it wasn’t actually anything she’d ever held against him. She’d spent the last hour catching up on reports from yesterday; Lucifer was being… Lucifer and not doing anything useful – quite the opposite, he’d just finished distracting a young, uniformed officer who’d walked by her desk.

Chloe’s phone buzzed as Lucifer poked at the files on her desk, jolting her from her reverie. She checked the number and answered, as a tall, broad man with greying brown hair finished speaking with Dan and strode over to the club owner.  _Marcus Pierce, must be._  Chloe listened with half an ear as she took down the information from the cop at the scene of a crime scene downtown.

 

“You must be Lucifer.”

 

“Morningstar. Pleasure.” He nodded and held out a hand.

 

Pierce tilted his head slightly and the barest of smirks teased his features. “There was an investigation last year. We interviewed what was it, 92 of your sexual partners? I think I'll refrain from physical contact if you don't mind.” He paused as Lucifer snorted, looking him up and down, assessing. “You don't seem reckless. Narcissistic, hedonistic, that I see.”

 

 “Well, thank you very much.” Lucifer smiled, slightly self-indulgent and pleased with himself.

 

Chloe resisted the urge to step between them as she finished with the call. Indignation of his behalf flared hot in her chest and she clenched her jaw shut.  _Not a compliment, Lucifer._

 

“Not a compliment. Your file is as long as my Johnson.”

 

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow, “Quick read then?”

 

Chloe grabbed her jacket and walked briskly over to the two men squaring off in the middle of the precinct. Seriously, the  _Lieutenant_  of the  _police_  was making  _dick jokes_?

 

“Hardly.”

 

“Well, I, for one, don't need a file to ascertain you haven't even had a snog in ages, have you?”

 

A small smile tugged at the edges of the Lieutenants lips. Was he interested in Lucifer? “Accurate.”

 

_Just get a damned ruler!_ Chloe chose that moment to step between them.

“Okay! Hi. I am Detective Decker: Lucifer's partner.”

 

He looked down at her, an unreadable expression written in light blue eyes. “I know.”

 

_Wait, not what I meant_. She cursed herself and tried to correct the assumption he implied. “Actually, he's mine. Uh, uh, consultant, to be exact.”

 

“That's what I said.”

 

_Do not sass the Lieutenant._   _Do not sass the Lieutenant._ Chloe felt a muscle in her cheek twitch from the strain of hold back all the responses she wanted to make, and instead bit out a civilised response.

“Right well, we’ve got a case. We should go.” She turned to Lucifer, who was still staring out said Lieutenant. “Lucifer.”

 

He hummed at her and leaned forward ever so slightly, narrowing the space between himself and the other man. A tiny invasion of personal space. A tiny threat. The air felt tighter around them, almost imperceptible but there. 

 

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.” Chloe nodded, then brushed past Lucifer in a silent command to follow. She was hoping it would work but refused to turn and check.  _He’s **my**  partner! He’s not even LAPD! _The assumption in Pierce’s comment smarted more than she was willing to admit.

She was half way up the steps when she heard his light tread hasten to join her. Chloe tried not to smile and forced her features to straighten before she glanced at him. “All done? You sure you two don’t want a ruler?”

 

“No need, Detective.” He assured her, straightening his jacket as they emerged into the bright Californian daylight. “I can say without a doubt that  _I_  am the bigger ‘man’. No ruler needed. Where’re we going?”

 

Chloe gave a derisive snort and forcefully stopped thinking about what she’d glimpsed on several occasions. He didn’t have anything to complain about, certainly. And to be fair to his comment, the Lieutenant would have quite some job to ‘measure up’.  _And now I’m thinking about the size of both of them!_  She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and from the smirk on Lucifer’s face, he’d seen and guessed precisely where her thoughts had led. She carried on, ignoring the unspoken taunt.

 

“There’s been another murder – sounds like it could be related.”

 

Lucifer straightened his sleeves and waved her towards the stairs. “Well then, lead on, Detective.”

 

*

 

There was no question whether or not it was a premeditated murder. The body was strung up onto the inside of a shipping container roof in the shape of a cross. The floor was covered in symbols, written in what looked like blood.

 

“Looks like the victim was drained of their blood before they were tied up and hoisted up there,” Ella gestured up to the ropes and wooden cross that they’d lowered to the ground.

 

“Is this Latin, again?” Chloe gestured to the floor, looking to Ella, then Lucifer.

 

“No,” Ella said, “At least, I don’t think so.”

 

“It is, and it isn’t,” Lucifer frowned, tilting his head to look at the painted floor. “Some of it is Latin – though it’s a very old, very obscure dialect. Some of it is… it’s Enochian.”

 

“Enochian? Never heard of it.”

 

“It’s the celestial language, used by angels and most demons. The dialects are different, of course.”

 

“Which dialect is this? What does it say?”

 

“Demonic.” He said with certainty. “I think Dad, even as distant as he is these days, wouldn’t let Angelic Enochian be written in fresh blood, especially since he discovered Mercy.” Lucifer walked around the bloody text, cocking his head at an awkward angle to better read what was written there, “And it says, ‘I’m coming for you Sa -’”

 

“Sa?” Chloe prompted. Lucifer was suddenly very still.

 

“Samael.”

 

Chloe frowned at Lucifer, it wasn’t like him to hesitate. But then again, there’d been something  _off_ since the minute he’d turned up in her bedroom. She’d thought, initially, that he was back to his normal self but last night, alone for the first time in 48 hours she’d thought that he’s persona seemed… thin. Like just under the surface was something else. “Who’s Samael? Does that name mean something to you?”

 

“Nothing of consequence, Detective.”

 

_The brush off_ ,  _how quaint_. Well, she didn’t get to Detective by letting people give her the brush off whenever they deemed something unnecessary to share. “No, na uh. This is a murder investigation, Lucifer. I’ll decide what’s of consequence, and what’s not. Who’s Samael?”

 

“He’s… featured in ancient Judaism? I think. Hard to keep track, you know. He’s said to have been an angel in the heavenly host, one given the task of being the archangel of death. He was sometimes referred to as Satan, in later texts. He’s not mentioned in the Bible.” Lucifer shoved his hands in his pockets to appear laid back, but looked down at his shiny, expensive shoes and held his shoulders too tautly to pull it off completely. It was this, rather than his words, that caused her concern.

 

“So, Samael is the Devil?”

 

“It’s slightly more complicated than that.” He complained, “You’re reducing thousands of years to a sentence.”

 

“I’m summarising.”

 

“Yes, well if you want to get it correct, rather than  _summarising_ , then Samael was my original angelic name. Before… everything. Not a common connection, and not so much a nickname as a former name. You’d think they had something against ‘Lucifer’! What’s wrong with ‘Lucifer?’”

 

“So, our killer is some kind of what? Religious zealot? Satanist?” Chloe rubbed forehead with her fingers, trying to push back the headache she felt brewing behind her eyes. She was piecing together the logical history behind his explanation, pronouns aside. He didn’t even blink, aligning his character with the history of Samael without pause. Of course, if he was the Devil that might explain the healed scars…  _don’t even go there, Chlo_. “Ella, anything?”

 

“Sorry man, whoever this is – they’re good. No prints on the body or around on the floor.”

 

Chloe huffed out a breath and put her hands on her hips, thinking. “Last time, it was ‘I am returned; my time has come; Your time has come.’ Now it’s ‘I’m coming for you, Samael’?We have no physical evidence, no impressions, no trace evidence and no suspects? So, all we do know is that the murderer is probably well educated – he can write Latin and this… Enochian. He’s probably deeply religious, if what you’re saying is right and it’s supposed to be the language of ‘angels’ and ‘demons’ –”

 

“Are the air quotes necessary, Detective?”

 

Chloe waved Lucifer’s indignant complaint off with a tilt of her head, still verbalising her assumptions. “We can assume they either work in or around the docks, or live nearby given that both murders occurred here. Do we have a rough time of death?”

 

Ella hummed as she thought before answering. “I’d need the full autopsy report to be sure, but I’d put it between 3 to 4am this morning – same time as our other victim, actually.”

 

“Alright: let’s get any CCTV we can from as close as we can to the containers. There can’t be that much coming and going here at that hour.”

 

*

 

As it turned out, there was considerably more comings and goings than one would think. It took the rest of the day, one vending machine sandwich and two awful coffees to complete the task, by Chloe’s count. Lucifer alternated between intently reviewing the tapes and being thoroughly distracted, usually by his phone. It did, however, provide them with a lead.

Singular.

Chloe phoned in the plates from a suspicious black sedan and leant back in her chair, turning her head to Lucifer. He cocked his head in response.

“What now then, Detective?”

 

“I need to pick up Trixie from school, no sitter today. Wanna come?”

 

“Willingly subject myself to your Spawn?” he scoffed, “Think I’ll pass. Did she like the chocolate, by the way?”

 

“She hasn’t had it yet – she’s been at Dan’s. It’s waiting for her in her bedroom. I’ll have to ration it, you know. She eats enough chocolate cake as it is, never mind all those treats you bought for her as well.”

 

“You can’t do that! That’s… depravation!”

 

“No, it’s moderation. She’ll eat chocolate until she’s sick, otherwise.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because she’s done it before, Lucifer. Two years ago, the day after Halloween.”

 

“That was then, this is now. Really, Detective. I expected  _better_!”

 

Chloe rolled her eyes at his dramatization of what most people would just call ‘parenting’. He had some seriously  _odd_  hang ups – where Dr Martin even start in their sessions? Mind you… people in glass houses, and all that. She wasn’t ignorant enough to think she didn’t have her own issues with her mother’s parenting style.

 

“Just because someone, the Spawn, did something before that you, in your wisdom, deem as  _wrong-”_

 

“She puked chocolate for an hour, Lucifer.”

 

He stalled mid-rant and considered her words. “Yes well, my point still stands. That was two years ago. The little urchin has grown since then, wouldn’t you say?”

 

“You think I should give her a chance, with the mountain of chocolate you bought for her?”

 

“Exactly!”

 

She sighed. This was one of those conversations with subtext that he usually reserved for the criminals of cases, and yet she was getting it now, about Trixie, and chocolate. Her first reaction was to blow him off, after all what did he know about childrearing, but the man did have a point. She hummed. “I’ll leave it where she can see it, in the kitchen. If she only eats what she’s allowed, or at least only steals an extra one or two, then it can stay there.”

 

“So you’re testing her?”

 

She nodded, “I guess.”

 

“What is it with parents and testing their children?” he muttered, turning to peer out the windows. Disgruntled. Chloe felt tension knit its way across her shoulders, indignation written in the weave.

 

“To see what they’ve learned, Lucifer. To see if they’re ready.”

 

*

 

Chloe pulled the door to Trixie’s bedroom door shut softly and returned to the dining room table, where she’d spread out all her notes for their current case. Forensics had come back with their reports since they’d picked Trixie up from school – much to the little girl’s delight. Chloe could hardly deny the amusement that sparked through her at seeing Lucifer’s flinch at her enthusiastic greeting.

Lucifer was sprawled across her sofa, Scotch in hand and head lolling against the low headrest. Chloe longed to sink down next to him and take the weight off her feet but instead braced her arms against the dining table and stared down at her notes from the case.

She groaned in frustration. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

 

“So you’ve said, Detective.” He replied without turning around. He was playing with his phone, fingers flicking across the screen deftly – texting someone no doubt.

 

“You don’t get it – it’s  _not possible_. These reports say there’s  _nothing_  from the bodies. Not even the smartest murderers leave  _nothing_. There’s always  _something_. And the only weird thing we have to go on is that vehicle, and the sulphur traces.”

 

“Sulphur?”

 

“Yeah, Ella confirmed that’s what we could smell at the apartment. There were smaller amounts at the other crime scenes as well. There’s a few other unsolved cases that match the sulphur thing –”

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah – the last one was a few years ago.” She brushed her fingers over the sheets of paper and muttered, “I really don’t want to have to file this one under ‘Sinnerman’ as well.”

 

“You’re not making much sense, Detective. Please explain.”

 

Chloe nearly jumped – he was stood right behind her. When had he even moved? How hadn’t she seen him? One the sofa, he would have been still in her peripheral vision, it was why she liked to work at the table and leave Trixie in the living room.

“Lucifer!” she scolded, “Don’t do that! How did you do that?”  
  


“What, walk?” he smirked, “Or make that lovely blush creep into your cheeks?”

She noted, absently, that he didn’t answer the question. A bluff. She gestured for him to continue.

“You said ‘Sinnerman’ – who’s that?”

 

“Depends on who you ask. Most cops think he’s some kind of crime lord working in the shadows.”

 

“And you?”

 

Chloe sighed, this was another place where she and her colleagues disagreed. Not quite as polarising as Palmetto, but still another line in the sand between Her and Them. “I think he’s just an urban myth some suspects like to blame stuff one when they need an excuse or can’t remember. The sulphur thing is the only bit I can’t explain – it was at the other supposed Sinnerman crime scenes too.”

 

“That is… odd.”

 

“Yeah.” Chloe turned back to the table and gathered the notes. She wasn’t going to get any further tonight, not without more evidence or a fresh lead. “Are you… staying?”

 

Lucifer frowned and shook his head. “’Fraid not. I’ve not been to see Linda yet and I feel… quite bad, about that.”

 

Chloe bit down the surge of jealousy that reared its ugly head, pushing it and the disappointment down with ruthless pressure until they were boxed neatly away with everything else. She knew Linda and Lucifer’s… payment arrangement was a thing of the past – that wasn’t what bugged her. She knew he  _spoke_  to Linda. Properly. No bluffing, no skirting the truth – he had to, she was his therapist as well as his friend. Why wouldn’t he trust her like that? She also acknowledged her own nagging guilt that she hadn’t dropped in to see the injured Doctor yet either. She’d been so preoccupied with pretending not to be preoccupied with Lucifer’s disappearance she’d admittedly forgotten about the other woman, for the most part.

 

“Fair enough,” she agreed, walking with him to the door, “see you tomorrow, Lucifer.”

 

He gave her a sad smile, his eyes hooded and dark as he stood in the shadows of the doorway. “Until then, Detective.”

 

*

Linda Martin did not usually pander to her clients. She had office hours (Monday to Friday, 8.30am until 6pm): however, Lucifer Morningstar had never been like the rest of her clients. He was certainly the first one she’d slept with, the first one she agreed to let pay for their sessions with sex.

He stood out in many ways. For example, the rest of her clients were human; Lucifer was the Devil. The rest of her clients called to book an appointment at her office; Lucifer just turned up. At her hospital room. Outside of visiting hours.

“Good evening, Lucifer.”

 

“Linda! How’re you feeling?” He stood the doorway, hands in his pockets and taking in the bruises on her body, the machines still around the bed. Thankfully now all disconnected, save for a drip into her arm.

 

“I’m much better: they’re discharging me tomorrow, hopefully.”

 

“Wonderful!” He gave her one of his rare, genuine smiles and finally stepped into the room, settling himself comfortably in the hard, plastic chair next to her bed that Maze had vacated just an hour before. Linda gave him a minute to get settled, then raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. It wasn’t like he made house calls, after all. He clearly wanted to discuss  _something_ : either relating to his disappearance or Chloe. She’d place money on it being both.

 

“Maze told you what happened after I left here?” he said without preamble.

 

“She gave me the cliff notes version, I think. Someone knocked you out and took you to a different plane of existence where time passed differently for you.”

 

Lucifer nodded. “Did she tell you what my Father did?”

 

When Linda shook her head no, he leant back in the chair and peer out into the hallway. Seeing no one, he tipped the chair back onto all fours and frowned. “He gave me my wings back.”

 

She blinked. Had god almighty restored his most fallen of Angels? She blinked again. Her lapsed faith was still struggling with the  _concept_  that it was all very real. For now, she continued to focus on her patient: she could ask questions later. She was getting better at holding in the desperate need for answers to well,  _life_ , during his sessions. “How did that make you feel?”

 

“Furious! Who does he think he is?”

 

“God?”

 

 “Very funny.” His face said he didn’t think her funny  _at all_. “It’s not a gift if you can’t refuse it.”

 

“You think they were supposed to be a gift?”

 

“I’m sure that’s what He would describe them as.”

 

If there was a prize award to patients who were most gifted at avoiding an answer, that award would go to Lucifer, every time _._  “Can you… return the gift?”

 

“I can cut them off and burn them again.”

 

“Will you?”

 

“I keep  _trying_  and they keep  _coming back_.” Lucifer gripped the arms of the hospital chair, opened his mouth as if to speak again but no sound came out. Linda looked at him expectantly: she’d found that after a certain point he couldn’t be guided to his own answers or pushed into further self-discovery. This felt like one of those times. She switched track.

 

“Last time we spoke, you implied you would speak with Chloe. Have you?”

 

“No,” he huffed, “It’s too… complicated now.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“Weren’t you listening? My wings!” he said angrily, “She won’t believe I’m the devil now, she didn’t before! How will she believe me if I have my wings? And my devil face is gone! And let’s not even get started on the fact that it looks like there’s some Arch Demon on the loose!”

 

Linda took a moment to ponder this, using the pause both to fully consider what the statement implied and to give him a moment to regain his composure. And to pick a topic. “You’re worried she’ll think you’re… an angel? Not the Devil?”

 

Lucifer made a frustrated noise and stood up, pacing to the window and back again, like a caged animal. “ _I am an angel_ , Doctor. Just not a very ‘good’ one. Devil: evil, remember?”

 

“You always insist that you punish evil, why do you see yourself differently now?”

 

He pushed his back into the sofa and crossed his arms. Linda felt tension knit across her own shoulders as she thought perhaps she’d pushed a little too hard, a little too fast. Lucifer was a lot like a frightened animal, backed into a corner much of the time. He couldn’t be forced out. She retreated and tried again.

“You mentioned your devil face is gone, what do you mean?”

 

“I mean, I tried to frighten another annoying preacher cretin downtown and  _nothing happened._  I tried it with Maze before I came here and still nothing. How can I be the devil, if I don’t have a devil face?”

 

_What do I say to that?_  Years of psychology training, twice as many practising and she had no idea how to answer that. It was half existential crisis, half identity crisis. Of biblical proportions, literally. “Do you feel like you’re still the devil?”

 

“Dad can’t give me back my wings and take away who I am!”

 

Linda mentally tallied up another avoidance award before saying, “Well then: do you feel you’re still the devil?”  

 

He smiled without humour. “Once evil, always evil, right, doctor?”

 

“You're not evil, you're the Devil: you punish evil. They’re your words, Lucifer.”

 

“I did say that, didn’t I?” he mused, “I think I’d forgotten. Perhaps it’s time I proved that I still do, wings or no. I can start with the Hellspawn taunting me from the docks.”

Lucifer nodded and stood abruptly, giving her a quick, wide smile. “Thank you, Doctor. I’m glad to see you’re on the mend.”

 

 


End file.
